Would there be any tears? Would anyone even be there? The sad truth is that I already know the answer, I have for as long as I can remember, I am an orphan. I never was adopted out of Madam's house I was told quite frequently that I was a big mistake not only from my parents leaving me on the steps of the orphanage, but also from Madam taking me in and raising me as some what of her own. I watched as children found Mommy and Daddy's, I watched as they had their last goodbyes, as the adoption fell through and they were left here yet again, abandoned. To live a life knowing they were second best in everything, it wasn't always bad at Madam's, she brought in Frau Klinder when the girls were old enough, to teach them the edicts of being a young lady in our time, so that there would be a better chance of adoption. She was very beautiful with the yellowest hair I had ever seen and the deepest blue eyes that looked like the sky when the first of the morning light touch the stars, she was very breath taking, sweet and graceful. I often dreamed that she was my mother and she would take me far away to live in the town were she grew up, she would speak of it so much that I could almost touch it in my dreams, she would talk of the never ending greenery and the smell of fresh bread being made at the bakers every morning, the sound of understanding,
"the connection that you would have to one place is hard to describe" she would often say.
I remember when Frau Klinder did not come to Madam's any more and I remember when Madam passed away in her sleep. The government sent a new director for the orphanage and when they told me I was too old to be adopted, so I was sent to a workhouse. The man that took over the orphanage had a wife that was very kind, she had gave me a few things to take with me, my favorite was a beautiful dress with white daises on the yellow fabric, I of course, had no where to wear it but I still loved it. In the winter time I would wear it under my cloths just for the shear fact that it reminded me of the warmth of the sun kissing your skin, and the light breeze that would gently brush over the flowers in a field and fill the air with a sweet aroma.
The workhouse was dark and dirty, many people got sick, some died by freezing to death, others by illness, or by starving. The saddest memories I have from there are of a young girl not much younger then I, Anna, she was very pail and had very black curly hair with dark eyes that could steal your breath if taken by surprise. Most people in the work house called her a Gypsy. The Master of the workhouse had two sons that were mean, viel things much older then her or I. One rainy night they came to our room, I had woke to hearing her cries. I moved in my very small bed to look in the direction of the sobbing girl to try to comfort her, but to my horror she was starring right at me tears running down her face as the two had there way, I sat up and she through up her hand and motioned for me to lay back down, I think back on it now and I realized she was trying to protect me. I wasn't who they wanted but she was terrified that they might do the same to me. Some months later I walked in to our little room to her sodding again. I sat next to her and placed my hand on her shoulder, she through her arms around me and sodded harder. Once she could catch her breath she had told me that she was pregnant with one of the Master's son's child. I tryed to reassure her that they would take care of her and the unborn child, for that would have been the right thing to do or at least it was in my mind. I went with her to make the Master aware of the situation that had occurred right be for my eyes. He brought in his sons to hear their side of the story and they denied the whole thing, they stated that she was a Gypsy and most likely a whore and that child could be anyone's even the son of Satin. The Master took the word of his sons and told the gypsy girl that she would work till she had the child and then he would take the child to an orphanage to be put up for adoption, and that she would not get to keep her child. She sodded all through the night and most days to fallow.
The months passed quickly and the day came when she gave birth. I will never forget the sound of a young mother having her new born daughter being ripped from her arms. The poor child would grow up feeling abandoned, I knew this all too well she would think that her mother did not want her and that her father felt the same. She would have know idea how much her mother loved her and how she wept at the sight of loosing her child.
