• Prologue


    Standing in the cold bitter winds, shivering, trying to grasp onto the lingering heat in the air. Walking down the barren streets, nothing but chimes ringing, echoeing down the lifeless paths. No sign of child's play, food being made in bakeries. Not even the scent of freshly brewed coffee for morning rush hour. No cars driving down the roads, leaving the little puffs of gas exhaust behind them. No mailmen delivering daily mail to the neighborhoods. No butcher's yelling at stray dogs to get lost. No cats chasing mice out of town. Birds flying overhead one by one every ten minutes or so. Turning into an alley, there's an old man, sitting in a corner huddling himself tight to keep warm. Only possessions are a thin spring coat, boots, and nothing more. Walking towards him, he tries to go further back into the alley. Frightening him, I back off, turning away from the dark alleyway.

    Chapter One


    When I had gotten home, after being in France for so long, I hadn't realized how much has changed. There weren't anything but vacant buildings, or worn down play areas. When I had left at seven years old to live with my great aunt, I ended up living there until i was nineteen years old. I never realized being in a different country for twelve years could make such a difference on a much bigger country in your heart. I didn't see any sign of my family around in the home I used to live. I turned the corner,
    "Oh my God!" I screamed to the top of my lungs. I saw pictures of my family and I on the floor, cracked frame, torn. I run to pick it up, my fingers crying red years as they touch the broken glass. I try to figure what had happend to this country. Why I was sent away. I try my hardest to piece the broken parts back together. My heart, torn just like the photos, tears rushing down from my blue-gray eyes like rushing rivers.
    "What are you doing here? Where did you come from? How did you get in? Who are you?" These questions hit me like a bullet in the heart. I turn, and, it's him. I stagger my words.
    "I-I'm Alex. O-o-or um rather Alexandra for th-that m-matter. And, I live here. Well used t-to that is." Somehow, I felt like I knew the man standing before me.
    "Farkson?" His eyes changed from questioning to shock.
    "How do you know my name?" I stand up in front of him, staring into him like I could see right through him.
    "Look at me. Really, look at me. What, or rather who, do you see?" He studied me for at least two minutes, and he got the look of rememberance. He took me by the hand and pulled me close to him.
    "Where have you been?" He asked me with such concern and passion in his voice.
    "I've been," I hesitated to finish but I managed, "In France." He looked at me shocked like he had never heard of France before in his life.
    "What the ******** were you doing in France!" I was shocked that he had cursed at me.
    So I asked, "Since when have you been cursing? Just wondering."
    "Since I was nine. Since you left the country!" I hugged him tight.
    "What happend here? Why is this house, the town so empty? Lifeless?" He had sat down on a rugged worn-out chair covered in dust.
    "They came. Killed everyone. But, I hid, so they never found me. And have you met that guy on the streets? The man in the alley?" I nodded, a tear started to fall form my eye. He saw, and wiped it away in a slow, soft stroke across my cheek.
    "I love you Alex.I always have." He leaned into me, and I fell in. He kissed me with a deep passion. A longing feeling that was finally set free.