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I, the author, have no process or real introduction for you, but instead I will begin at the start of where you, the reader and main character's back story and where it begins. Special thanks to 


The wind of Paris and the early November night hit your already cracked skin. It hurt everywhere but mainly your skin and feet. You curled into the fetal position and breathed. You could see your breath, the biggest sign of a hellish night.

You laid gently on the straw that doubled up as your bed. You had wrapped yourself in an old cloth made of sheepskin. It was rough, but better than nothing on these harsh nights of terror in Paris. The straw poked at your unclad skin, you knew it'd leave marks in the morning, but that was the least of your worries.

You had a little girl, whom was only in her third month on this earth. She was your light, the force in the back of your head that kept you going. She was small, probably smaller than an average three month old, yet she had the biggest heart. You adored her, her little laugh, her bright eyes full of love, yet you still felt bad.

You knew she'd have a difficult life, a life where nothing was in favor for the poor babe. Her father didn't care, her mother, you that is, had nothing, and the world could be so harsh. You often thought of how life had beaten you down here, though you had seen the spiral of pain in your life with both your eyes, for it was such a long story.

You usually didn't speak of it, for it made even your worn and shredded heart stop. And anyway, not many people would want to here a long sob story of some poor Normandy girl, but I, the author will tell you, for it might help you get the feeling of this poor heartbroken woman;

It began on a clear Normandy day in a little home where an older married couple lived. They were happy, had a decent income, their little house kept them warm in winter and the rain away, but they felt as if something was missing. For they had been childless for all their married years, that was, until your mother had discovered she was expecting a babe.

The couple were extremely elated at the expectancy of a child. For they had waited so long, prayed everyday and night, and their only want had come true.

So, nine months later, on a clear and quiet Normandy day in the little house of this married couple, a daughter was born to them. For she was healthy yet small. The little home and family became much brighter that day.

You had a normal childhood. Your father went out and helped work the fields, while your mother did the domestic work of the household and taught you basic school subjects, due to the fact your family couldn't afford school.

You grew to be healthy and always had a smile on your face, something you had inherited from your oh so lovely mother. Your mother had been so kind, so warm, for she had loved you in the worst moments of your life, but now she was gone, gone like the wind in a sandstorm.

Everything was going well up until the year 1800, at a time where everyone should have been celebrating, for it was a new century, and peace finally seemed to come, but your poor family was down on it's luck. Your mother and father had contracted the disease Polio. It had broken out in early Spring in Normandy. Your father believed he wouldn't catch it, due to being out in the fields, but someone caught it and gave it to him. At first, there were no symptoms, he acted like his happy self, but then he woke up one morning, completely prallyzed.

Due to having little money, your family couldn't risk asking for a doctor, so your mother took care of your father, and like her husband, she contracted the disease. At this point, your mother had sent you now to the family down the road, so you didn't catch the awful illness. You still remembered the sad nights you had spent crying and praying to God he'd find a way to heal your parents.

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