And the Cradle Will Rock...

     In the early morning hours of January 17, 1417 a scream rang out and a poor woman gave birth to a baby girl.  The woman was growing weak and losing precious time.  She wiped the baby down and swaddled her in torn rags.  The woman gradually made her way down silent streets toward the orphanage. Gently she laid  the crying baby down on the porch and collapsed in the street corner, dead.

     The morning brought a treachorous blizzard and as the house-keeper opene he door she saw the child's face poking out of the snow.

     "Oh...Oh my goodness.  Who hath the gall to lay a baby in such wheather!?"  she exclaimed with a tone of anger and curiosity.  "How hath thou lived through the storm!?"

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     15 years later You were beautifully dangerous.  They called you Yvonne, a strange name for a strange girl.  You had long curly dish-water blonde locks with fair skin to match.  Your eyes were a glowing orange that were more captivating than a king's feast.  The house-maid had died as had the other children who taunted you all your years.  You killed them.  You had surges of epidemics throughout the little towns and the people who tormented you became your prey.  You took their life force and made it your own.  You are immortal.

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     Centuries passed and the earth was your toy.  You let loose a damging plague and the people called it "The Black Plague."  Time passed and you caused wars and forming countries.  Now here you are in modern times.  You enjoy a free-spirited life and use your saved cash.  You go to your highschool everyday watching...waiting for the next meal.

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Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You have my attention. I need more story. I like history and myth. You have both in this tale. I look forward to reading more of this story. A excellent opening chapter. Create mystery and a lot of questions.
Coyote

[Von Alis]

I'm hooked, keep writing because this is awesome!