FeliciaMirage

CHAPTER 2: There didn't seem to be an end to the bleached white hallways. Even though they were stark against Zeporah's tanned skin, the gloom that seemed to hang in the air made the overhead lights seem dim even compared to her dust tar space.   There were more people walking around the hall when Zeporah turned the corner. Nurses in crisp white uniforms did their varied tasks, yet their general look seemed almost clone-like and robotic. Something about their eyes--- She turned another corner, and was met by chaotic noise and activity. Hospital Workers were scurrying everywhere, some avoiding others while reading electronic charts, others ra

A white light blinded the scene, and something somewhere crashed. Two parents looked to the back seat of the car to make sure their baby girl was unharmed. The tiny baby with wide eyes and chin quivering looked up at her parents as tears formed in her eyes. She closed her eyes and began to cry heartwrenching sobs, not knowing what was going on, not caring; just wanting it to stop. All at once, the mother scooped the baby out of the seat, and started running with the father towards an abandoned building. Gunshots sounded nearby, and car alarms screeched their disapproval. The baby stopped for a moment, looking around her at the chaotic streets

 I called back to Ania over my shoulder. “Hurry up, we're almost there!” I shouted with a little bit of exasperation in my voice. She had been like this for about an hour now, and was making me have to slow down for her to catch up. Fresh, Labrador mountain air always gave me an energy burst, and it usually did for Ania too. But today, it seemed to be making her breath shorter, her face to go all red and hot, and breaks by the side of the path a frequency. “Don't sound so mad! You're the one who wanted to walk up this steep hill,” Ania grunted as she grabbed a tree root jutting out of one of the numerous little

“There now! Don't you look lovely, Miss!”            The sound of her maid's voice brought Emma back to the present. She looked into the floor-length mirror at herself, now wearing an elegant, lime green chiffon dress. A turquoise, satin ribbon was sewn and tied around her dress, and rested right under the bosom. Dancing slippers of the same colour donned her feet, and white gloves embraced her gentle arms. It was all lovely to be sure; but nothing could take away the nervousness that oppressed her very soul.            She smiled and thanked her maid, complimenting her work. The maid's happy but tense face relaxed when she he