La Petite Morte (The Dead Girl)

Chapter 1

OLIVIER'S POINT OF VIEW

About a century ago...

     My heart pounded hard, almost so hard that I thought the rebels could hear it.

     They were a group trying to make  an uprising for the royal family in Paris.  Of coarse, not any of their secrets were advertised to the people.  They were a family will paranormal abilities.

     The men were wearing dark clothes, so that if any of the royalty's security group were to come across, the rebels were blended into the dark night sky.

      But not for long...

     The torches lit on fire, the screams of a young girl made my heart sink in the deep bottomless pit of my stomach. 

     Why am I seeing this?  I asked myself over and over again.  What was a 20 year old man in Paris doing here, in front of a fire, in which the rebels were about to burn and kill Aveline, the daughter of of King Rio?

     Aveline's supernatural gift could not help her at all.  She was not gifted with strength, neither did she have the power to knock the men over with a spell.  In fact, her powers were not even developed yet.  She was as helpless as a toddler.  As helpless as me, not able to move, to squeeze my eyes shut, and save myself from seeing this.

     Aveline's screams pierced through the dark, the cold humid air all around my body.  She was burning alive.  The screams turned into a raspy squeal and she tried to shriek in pain as the dark clothed man kept pushing her in the flames, disabling her to escape.

     Aveline was barely 16.  She was well protected considering being the king's daughter.  But today Paris has turned upside down.  The leader of the rebel team had somehow found out about the family's supernatural powers inside the castle.  A very good friend of his was killed during a fight with the king's men as he tried to get in.  As it turned out, he was going to sneak in, in  hopes of gold or precious jewels. 

     Now the leader of the group wanted revenge.  He wanted to show all of France that the king that they all loved is some kind of evil sorcerer that will someday be against this country.  And this was by killing the princess Aveline.

     I heard the steps of a horse behind me.  The fire about 50 yards away from me was being put out, and all I saw was the ashes of Aveline.

     Why am I here?  I asked myself.  Why am I not running?

     I was frozen at the replaying image of a burning human, and for all I did, I'd lost my horse and was looking for him until I froze at this horrible sight.

     The men all scrambled about now.  They ran off to their horses.  They rode off, like something scared them off. 

     When I felt strong, thick, muscular arms pulling me, I knew I wasn't in the right place.

     A guard in the service of the king himself was behind me, holding me stranded, thinking I was part of these cruel men that had killed Aveline.

     He muttered something in French that I only understood as "You will pay for this."  or something in these lines. 

     I practically couldn't speak French at all.  My step father had been from England, and my real parents were French.  But since my parents died when I was a child, I had to speak English, and I remembered practically nothing in French.

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     Two knites by my side, holding my arms harshly, in front of a king and queen, in which they threw a tantrum, with the queen in tears, and the king's face almost as purple as an eggplant.

     He asked me my name.

     "Olivier"  I answered, knowing only the basics.

     He said something that I didn't really get.

     "Quoi?!"  He yelled when I did not answer.  "What?!"

     "Je ne parle que peu francais."  I said, trying to say I spoke little French.

     I saw everyone's disgust at my accented French, and my lacking ability to speak the language.

     I heard some muttering and yelling that felt like they took eternity,  at the end, was the only thing I could hold on to.

     "You are sentenced to death."  The guard told me quietly in a deeply accented English.

     I felt a piercing pain in my back as the guards whipped my way to a dungeon.

     I did not get a chance to explain anything!  No excuses, I was sentenced to death 2 weeks from now. I was considered a criminal, tortured and abused brutally with that darn leather whip. 

     For all I knew, I deserved it for knowing about their secrets, which I had found out while eavesdropping on my father.

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I wrote this about six months ago, and I'm copying from my notebook.  My writing has improved now so I would be grateful if you don't hate on anything.  I hope you liked it!