Magic and Entertainment
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,408
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,408
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Prologue
Warning: I have none, at least not here.
Disclaimer: what disclaimer? This is mine. All mine! Please don\'t use any of these characters without my permission, however if you ask (and ask nicely) I shall allow them to be used.
Prologue
He looked around the house, mother was gone, so was Uncle. Why weren\'t they here? It was his birthday, afterall. He was six. He looked outside his window, usually mother was outside talking with one of the neighbors of his home. But she was not. He went outside and saw the carriage pulling up. The only time one of those came was when something had happened and nothing should have. At least he hoped not.
It came to a quick stop in front of him. Uncle stepped out, his Aunt next to him. Cousin Patrick was there, too, the smug little snot.
\"Ian,\" Uncle began, slight sorrow in his eyes. \"Your mother died working today. Her arm got caught in one of the machines and was ripped right off. The doctors said it was because all the blood came out of her body. Now, because she was your mother and she worked for me, now you are coming with us.\"
\"Why? Isn\'t my dad coming home, soon? They said he wouldn\'t be working long.\"
\"He hasn\'t been around in seven months, they assume he\'s dead, too. Now come with us. You have to clean up the mess your mother made at the machine.\"
Ian didn\'t believe what they said. Rather than to get in that black carriage of bad news, he sprinted to the shop his mother worked in, easily slipping by due to his small size. When he reached her work station, which he had seen only four times before, it was no lie. The floor was a metallic red and the fabric on the machines were dyed a dark red as well. The other girls around his mother\'s station looked at him with tears in their eyes.
\"Your mother was a good woman,\" his uncle said. \"But she wasn\'t good enough. Now clean it up. We\'ll figure out what to do with you later.\"
(123)
Short. I know. Where it\'s heading, I don\'t know, but it\'s heading somewhere. This is just the introduction, afterall. And thank you Wheyz for pointing out the \"died\" and \"dyed\" differences. It slipped by me when I re-read it.
Disclaimer: what disclaimer? This is mine. All mine! Please don\'t use any of these characters without my permission, however if you ask (and ask nicely) I shall allow them to be used.
Prologue
He looked around the house, mother was gone, so was Uncle. Why weren\'t they here? It was his birthday, afterall. He was six. He looked outside his window, usually mother was outside talking with one of the neighbors of his home. But she was not. He went outside and saw the carriage pulling up. The only time one of those came was when something had happened and nothing should have. At least he hoped not.
It came to a quick stop in front of him. Uncle stepped out, his Aunt next to him. Cousin Patrick was there, too, the smug little snot.
\"Ian,\" Uncle began, slight sorrow in his eyes. \"Your mother died working today. Her arm got caught in one of the machines and was ripped right off. The doctors said it was because all the blood came out of her body. Now, because she was your mother and she worked for me, now you are coming with us.\"
\"Why? Isn\'t my dad coming home, soon? They said he wouldn\'t be working long.\"
\"He hasn\'t been around in seven months, they assume he\'s dead, too. Now come with us. You have to clean up the mess your mother made at the machine.\"
Ian didn\'t believe what they said. Rather than to get in that black carriage of bad news, he sprinted to the shop his mother worked in, easily slipping by due to his small size. When he reached her work station, which he had seen only four times before, it was no lie. The floor was a metallic red and the fabric on the machines were dyed a dark red as well. The other girls around his mother\'s station looked at him with tears in their eyes.
\"Your mother was a good woman,\" his uncle said. \"But she wasn\'t good enough. Now clean it up. We\'ll figure out what to do with you later.\"
(123)
Short. I know. Where it\'s heading, I don\'t know, but it\'s heading somewhere. This is just the introduction, afterall. And thank you Wheyz for pointing out the \"died\" and \"dyed\" differences. It slipped by me when I re-read it.