Runaway

 

I stared up at the velvet sky, alone. The sun was just setting beyond the horizon and the evening was quickly turning into night. I swung my legs around, as my mind went blank. I loved doing this; just relaxing and letting your thoughts wander. Standing up, I proceeded to go back down the chimney, resuming my daily odd jobs as a housemaid or chimney sweeper. I landed with a thud and brushed off the dust from my arms and legs. Not forgetting to pick up my weekly salary, I opened the sealed envelope, a gleam in my eyes as I counted the money. $30 was placed inside, neatly. I tucked it into my back pocket, leaving the mansion I would return to the next day to clean.

 

            It had just stopped raining around an hour ago, so the streets were still wet. I stood in front of a large puddle, staring down at it as I examined my appearance. My once silky brunette hair was tangled and knots were forming everywhere. The rags I had on weren’t washed since I found them in an alley a few weeks ago, and my arms and legs bruised and dirty. I put a hand to my face, where I instantly felt the coarse texture of coal clinging to my hand. A tear fell down from my emerald-green eyes as I sat down on the cold pavement, weeping.

 

            Nearby a wet market had just opened, as people hustled around, negotiating on prices and hawkers yelling out the prices of the fruit or vegetables. I wiped away my tears, sniffling. With a brief touch of my salary, I decided to buy some bread; anything, that would last me the next few days.

 

            I had been living on a diet of water and whatever scraps I could find, or, if I was lucky, receiving some food from my employers when I went to clean their houses. I approached a stall, where an elderly lady rocking her baby to sleep stood, selling bread and flowers. I handed her a 5 dollar note, smiling as I picked up the last bagel. Behind her I noticed a young girl, around 3 years younger than I was, picking up roses and cutting of their thorns, her hands bleeding from cuts she had obtained.

 

            I tore off a piece of the bread, chewing it slowly; savoring the taste as I knew it wouldn’t last long, After another bite, I kept it with the envelope in my pocket, walking along the muddy streets as I attempted to find a place of shelter for the night.

 

            I wished things were different.

 

            I wished I hadn’t run away from home.

Reviews

[Theresa]

The way you write you help paint a picture for the reader. I could almost visualize everything that was going on. It's a great start.

[Jules]

I love the description you give in this chapter--you can really picture what's going on and what everything looks like. I love how even though this is the first chapter, the tone is really set for what's to come. The ending is really good, it gives a good idea about what the novel is going to be about, but it isn't at all blatant. This is really good, I would love to read more.

[bailish]

Love the narrator's description of herself. It gives a vivid mental image.

From your descriptive passage, I have a clear image of late 19th century London.

Excellent ending too. In very few words, I know where you're going. This sounds very interesting.