Creative Writing: Margot In The Closet
Published by love to read in the blog love to read's blog. Views: 67 I wrote this for a writing challenge just for fun. You had to choose one of your favourite historical persons and write about them. Since I had so much fun writing it, I decided to share. Enjoy Th. I turn to the closet behind me and start to stack the freshly washed linen inside, deeply inhaling the scent of summer and the sunshine and remembering the precious half an hour we were allowed outside today.
It had been raining this morning, but when we stepped outside the sun had come out, warming the fresh and clean air. Summer has finally arrived against all odds.
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I told you so. Everything is going to be alright. Then I closed my eyes and left the ugly wooden fence and the neglected shrubbery behind, travelling back through the years for Mqrgot few precious moments, to a time where Nicky and I strolled through parks far away from here, careless and oblivious of any trouble life would deal us. I close the door of the closet and my gaze slips to more info dresses of the girls.
They have lost colour, and I notice that the seams are worn. Anastasia is growing so fast now that she will need new ones soon, anyway. Perhaps next Christmas- I shy away from the thought and turn around to the narrow iron bed. Creative Writing: Margot In The Closet
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Alexej is softly sighing in his sleep. There is a small crease on aMrgot forehead, and I wonder if he is still in pain. Rasputin would know, he always knew, but he is long gone. Gently I stroke back a loose lock of his hair. Soon he will turn fourteen, no longer a child and not yet a man. In this web page heart he will always be my baby, the child I fought so hard for. Though fate gave finally in, it keeps mocking me with the constant threat of taking him away from me again. I leave the room and step into the hall. She is reading aloud to her sisters. Olga is a great reader, and soon her voice will lull the girls to sleep, so there is no need for me to step in and disrupt their secret pleasure. There are no windows in Creative Writing: Margot In The Closet hall, and no one has lit the candles on the walls, so the darkness surrounding me is Clodet and almost impenetrable.
I reach the top of the staircase, and while my foot is slowly searching for the first step, a thought lets me stop midmotion. I will fall. I will fall, and the darkness will swallow me, ripping away everything and everyone I ever loved or cared about.
My throat gets tight.]
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