Nowhere to be Found

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Chapter Two

Awakening in a Cruel World

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August 18th, 1711

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A trail of blood followed the girl as she dragged herself out of the dark hole she had fallen into. Her skin ripped apart with each small movement and a new shot of agony seemed to erupt over her upper body. Her face was hollow and white as the blood dripped over her forehead like a dark red rose on a winters snow. The tattered rags of her once beautiful dress lay in shreds around her body, revealing the burnt flesh of her torso.

The body she was in felt foreign and unknown but it was the feeling of pain that stuck with her, unlike anything she could have imagined it to be. She tried to pull her self up on her legs but fell back down hard onto the cobbled road, her eyes tried to scan the darkness for a glimmer of light but all she saw was a black mist. Placing her arms on the ground she prepared herself for the pain that would surly follow, pushing her arms up she brought her legs under her and stood, unbalanced. Before she could register the pain her body gave way and she was once again confined to crawl.

The further away from the canal she crawled the clearer the night became. The city began to emerge from the mist and objects that had at first appeared as part of one black mesh, turned into streets, houses and people. She tried to make a noise but nothing escaped her mouth but a rough animal like sound, that simply made people avoid coming in her direction. A street name blurred above her but the letters and words were foreign, and her mind too puzzled to understand the language, in fact, she could not remember her own name.

Forcing herself to crawl, her body scraped along the hot ground and her arms shook with the strain that her weight caused her. Though she felt as if she was drawing ever so closer to death she continued to move at an agonisingly slow pace. Something drew her towards the building that could just be seen many yards from were she lay, a stone masterpiece that's wooden roof had a tower perturbing up into the night sky, the doors rested slightly ajar, revealing a window containing a multiplicity of colours. She pulled herself up to the gate and grabbed a hold of the cold metal.

"Help me," she said, her voice a gravely whisper, not even a dog would have heard the pitiful noise she made.

Tears pricked at her soar, bloodshot eyes but she had not the energy to cry. The grip she had faltered as the muscles in her arms gave way and again left her flat on the ground. There she lay her lungs heaving as they tried to take in as much oxygen as they could but it was becoming too hard. The beautiful light from the open doors began to close and she felt the life drain from her in a wash of despair.

"No," her voice wheezed.

The pastor who had closed the door turned his head towards the animal like sound and his eyes widened as he noticed the dying girl laying on the ground. He rushed over and placed a hand on the child's forehead feeling the fever-like-temperature.

"Het is okay kind , het is okay," she could not understand him but his words were soft and to her ears were a heavenly presence. He stroked her hair away form her face and carefully opening the gate came down to her side. Her body was frail and light but the man still strained as he placed his arm under her legs and picked her up from the ground.

The man stumbled along the canals of Amsterdam, gathering a small crowd as he headed towards his house. The girl's eyes had rolled back to reveal the whites of her eyes and her skin was scarlet and hot. Many of the spectators looked on in intrigue, none offered to help the man who was beginning to weaken with the girl's weight.