Status: Somethin I'm trying out
Revolution
1905-1907
The next morning we weren’t fed. Nobody came around to gives us anything or to start the fire. The other orphans clumped in groups, shivering from the cold drafts from the windows. Dark smudges covered their faces and naked limbs. The scraps of cloth they wore was matted to their body with grim. The horrid smells were becoming less of a problem as I, and hopefully Mica, adjusted to it. One of the girls stood up and shuffled over to where Mica and I were huddled together. She looked at us with pitiful brown eyes.
“What’s your name?” she asked. Her Russian sounded a bit different than what I was used to. Her long greasy hair fell in her face and she had to constantly brush it back.
“Mica,” said my brother with a thoughtful expression. The girl smiled and her cheeks flushed at the most adorable child she had ever seen. Some of her teeth were missing. “What happened to your teeth?” my brother asked.
“Mica,” I said harshly, “that’s not a kind thing to ask.” Mica looked discouraged, but the girl laughed.
“No, no,” she assured, “it’s alright. You see my papa was a crazy man and one day he got tired of me running my mouth so he took some of my teeth out.” As she told her tale she continued to smile, her eyes never showed a hint of hate or anger toward her father. She seemed oddly fond of this memory. I didn’t like her story, but Mica gazed at her with an open mouth, disbelief written all over his face. “Anyway,” the girl giggled, “my name is Anja.” She then skipped away to her other friends.
It was late afternoon when the elderly woman, whose name I learned was Marfa, came down and gave us some water and bread. The water had a bitter taste and the bread was stale. Still, Mica and I ate what little was given to us. Our stomachs continued to rumble until night came and we fell asleep.
The moon was high in the sky when all of us awoke. Two boys in the room started fighting over a blanket. They pulled and tugged at the ends as they shouted at each other. Anja stood up to stop them, but it was too late. The blanket was ripped in half and then arguments broke out across the room. The other complained about not taking turns and that they would soon freeze to death. Mica and I watched as war between the orphans broke out.
“Filthy children!” cried Marfa who brought two other women with her to break up the fights. Kids were beat back into obedience with canes and sticks. Some children were brought into the hall where they were given a beating far worse than anything I had ever heard. Their cries silenced the whole room as children dispersed along the walls and beds. I sheltered Mica, covering his ears, as I prayed that one day we would get out of here.
“What’s your name?” she asked. Her Russian sounded a bit different than what I was used to. Her long greasy hair fell in her face and she had to constantly brush it back.
“Mica,” said my brother with a thoughtful expression. The girl smiled and her cheeks flushed at the most adorable child she had ever seen. Some of her teeth were missing. “What happened to your teeth?” my brother asked.
“Mica,” I said harshly, “that’s not a kind thing to ask.” Mica looked discouraged, but the girl laughed.
“No, no,” she assured, “it’s alright. You see my papa was a crazy man and one day he got tired of me running my mouth so he took some of my teeth out.” As she told her tale she continued to smile, her eyes never showed a hint of hate or anger toward her father. She seemed oddly fond of this memory. I didn’t like her story, but Mica gazed at her with an open mouth, disbelief written all over his face. “Anyway,” the girl giggled, “my name is Anja.” She then skipped away to her other friends.
It was late afternoon when the elderly woman, whose name I learned was Marfa, came down and gave us some water and bread. The water had a bitter taste and the bread was stale. Still, Mica and I ate what little was given to us. Our stomachs continued to rumble until night came and we fell asleep.
The moon was high in the sky when all of us awoke. Two boys in the room started fighting over a blanket. They pulled and tugged at the ends as they shouted at each other. Anja stood up to stop them, but it was too late. The blanket was ripped in half and then arguments broke out across the room. The other complained about not taking turns and that they would soon freeze to death. Mica and I watched as war between the orphans broke out.
“Filthy children!” cried Marfa who brought two other women with her to break up the fights. Kids were beat back into obedience with canes and sticks. Some children were brought into the hall where they were given a beating far worse than anything I had ever heard. Their cries silenced the whole room as children dispersed along the walls and beds. I sheltered Mica, covering his ears, as I prayed that one day we would get out of here.
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Filler chapter