This book I'm supposedly trying to write, I have no idea if it's worth it. Here's a little piece from the beginning. I think I might just post little bits of it from time to time, just to get a second opinion. Tell me what you think<3
Sincerely, Michelle(:
It's
so dark, I'm running, running as fast as I can, but I know it won't be
enough. I have to get there. I have to get there now. Blue and silver mist creeps up on me. It swirls around me and makes it hard to
see. Soon I can't see at all, but I have
to keep running. I can't stop running,
because then I would be too late. I
can't be late. I have to get there
before it's too late.
They're
chasing me now. The mist and the
darkness swirl together and hide them, but I know they're coming. I have to get there before they do. They're getting closer. I have to run faster, but I can't. I can't run any faster. My legs don’t want to move anymore, they're
full of lead and weighing me down. I
can't run anymore, but I can't stop. I
have to keep running or they'll get me.
It seems as though
I'm running in water. I'm so slow. The water tugs at my legs and pulls me
down. It takes tremendous effort, but
eventually I'm back up and forcing my tired legs to keep pushing, to keep
running. They're closer now, I can hear
them breathing and whispering my name. I
have to keep running no matter what. A
long, snake-like tendril of vines comes out of nowhere and trips me. I fall hard.
I'm on my face again, and this time I can't get up. I know I have to get there, but now there's
no time, and I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it…
I
wake up sweating and panting. It was
only a dream, nothing can get me here.
I'm perfectly safe. I have to
tell this to myself several times before I can finally drift back to sleep.
Sunlight
streams in through my window, practically blinding me as the maid throws open
the curtains. Soft light reflects off of
white marble floors, making it hard. I hide
my face under the silken purple sheets and roll over. Shoes click back and forth on the floor,
making it impossible to sleep. Sleep? Yes, I've been asleep. I had no dreams after I woke up last night,
that’s a good thing, right?
The
little maid is darting back and forth, fixing every little thing out of
place. That explains the tapping
shoes. Her light brown hair is pulled
into a tight bun, tied only with a pink bow.
The rest of her outfit is that of an ordinary household maid: simple black dress and a white apron
skirt. The guards are usually very
strict on what a maid can, and can't wear.
I'm surprised they let her have a ribbon at all, let alone a brightly colored
one. Her tiny feet dance across the
floor. She should be a dancer, not a
lowly maid working in this cold, stone prison.
"Princess,
I've prepared a breakfast for you, and it's in the dining room. Your riding clothes are freshly pressed and
in your dressing room. Miss Wilson is
expecting you at eight in the courtyard." She speaks softly. Her voice is so small and timid, it reminds
me of a mouse.
"Aurora.
Just Aurora." I automatically
correct her. It gets really old when you
have servants and maids and teachers waltzing around with their "princess
this," and "princess that," it's not like I asked to be
royalty. It's seven o clock. Great.
Here comes another day in the gloriously boring life of sweet Princess
Aurora Hamilton.
