GAH. *Headdesk* Okay...before you tear me limb from limb because I haven't updated O.Q.F, LET ME EXPLAIN. Writers block is a bitch, we all know this. But, she has decided to target me...I erally hope this doesn't continue into November when NaNoWriMo comes around. To all NaNo authors, you know what I mean. This is only my second year of NaNo so, WISH ME LUCK COME NOVEMBER!
"I don't see why people add disclaimers in their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their life instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit then it would've happened and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." – Melody Syper Carston's disclaimer
Now...Enjoy the story~!
We set our scene in New York City in the early eighteen fifties. A little girl, not much older than six or seven, was curled up in a pitch black alley in the poorer area of New York. The little girl had a thin, mud caked blanket wrapped around her trembling frame. Every now and then, she whimpered, sneezed or went into a coughing fit, causing one or two of the kids currently in the area to rush over and check on her.
The alley, which was home to four or five children, most of them appearing older than this little girl, was full of garbage, dead animals and rat droppings. This, as you might imagine, gave off an awful, putrid smell that made any one who passed it gag. The kids tried their hardest to keep the alleyway clean, seeing as this was where they lived, but it always ended up filthy again in the end. On top of the squalid conditions, there was little room for the children it accommodated.
Now, these children were not ordinary children. The little girl was the human personification of New York City and these kids here were the product of relationships between countries and humans. Most of the countries were male so they often never knew of their children. These children also became the personifications of cities, even if they lived very far from the place they represented.
New York City stirred under the blankets, groaning loudly. "Water..." she croaked.
New York City had golden locks that reached about her hip...Well, if she wore it down. Normally, the little girl had all her hair tucked under a wool newsboy cap. She was pale and extremely skinny. She obviously hadn't had a proper meal in days. On top of all this, she had a raging fever which caused sweat to cover her already sickly looking body. Her eyes, while we cannot see them now, are a shade of brown that resembled rich soil, perfect for planting.
Another girl, about twelve years in appearance with extremely short, choppy blond hair and crystal blue eyes poked out from the front of the alley. She carried a small canteen of water as she walked toward New York City.
"Hello, Quinn," she whispered.
New York City - or 'Quinn' as we now know - opened her chocolate brown eyes. She groaned loudly and tightly shut them again, her stomach voicing its discontent at the lack of food she had consumed in the past few weeks. The next time she opened her eyes, she stared into the blond's. Her brown eyes then wandered up to the butchered locks.
"You sold your hair, Paris?" Quinn demanded, trying to sound stern. But, she failed miserably since her voice cracked half-way through the sentence and she fell into a fit of coughing afterward.
"Oui...It was necessary, mon ami. You are getting worse." she murmured as she spun the cap of the canteen off.
She tore off the end of a clean rag she'd found and soaked it in the water, laying it on Quinn's forehead. The water was cool against Quinn's sticky, over heating forehead.
"I FOUND HIM!" a British accented voice suddenly shouted.
A girl, with long brown hair flowing behind her, ran into the alley. She had straw-like cocoa brown hair, even paler skin than New York and Paris. She was dressed in a normal, tattered old newsboy outfit, a few newspapers tucked under her arm. She pretty much supported the trio, now that Paris was busy taking care of sick little Quinn. She looked just a bit older than Paris, as well.
"Quoi?"
"I FOUND AMERICA!"
The entire alley went silent, all the kids just standing and staring at her. The brunette was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide as saucers, a huge, irremovable grin on plastered her face.
Out of nowhere, Quinn produced a joyous laugh which quickly fell into loud, hiccuping sobs and a hacking fit. Paris rubbed her back softly, trying to get her to calm down before she got sick and attempted to empty her stomach of the stale bread and old fruit she'd eaten earlier. After a minute of the terrifying coughing and gasping coming from New York City, the British girl spoke again.
"We should take her to him..."
"What? London, she can barely move!" Paris exclaimed, her azure eyes appearing as big as headlights with how wide they were.
The girl, who we can now assume is London, sighed softly and gazed pitifully at the groaning, writhing child.
"Paris...Destiny...We have to take her." she insisted in a hushed tone. Murmurings of the other children's agreement soon wove their way through the dank alley.
Destiny sighed, murmuring the things that could very well go wrong to herself in French. Finally, she stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth.
"Everyone! May I have your attention, please?!" she shouted. The alley immediately went silent.
Destiny nodded and adjusted her shirt a bit before speaking. "All in favor of taking New York City to America first, say I and raise your hand."
A unanimous agreement rang in the alley, echoing off the brick walls of the buildings on either side of them. All of the hands were raised, and every kid was nodding.
Destiny sighed softly and turned around, just as she heard New York scream in agony. She nodded to London and the brunette dashed off, going to obey Paris's silent order. Paris then bunched the stained old blanket up around Quinn, the little girl curling against the French blond and begging for her to stop the pain. Destiny quietly shushed her and told her that they would be helping her soon. Bolting out of the alley, she carried the girl down the street and quickly caught up with London, who was also sprinting.
"Where?" Paris asked, panting lightly from the extra effort needed to carry Quinn.
"Up there," London said, nodding toward a mansion that was quickly appearing on the horizon.
Paris couldn't help but gasp as she noticed the colossal home. The mansion was simple. Nothing elegant or fancy about it. Whoever had built this had the idea clearly in mind that he (or she) didn't want to be...extravagant. He was apparently wealthy though, seeing as he didn't live in any of the old warehouses that had been converted to small dwellings or 'railroad flats.' This made Paris a little more optimistic...She could only hope that London was right as they finally reached the doorstep of the home and banged the knocker against the hardwood door.
...and this, my wonderful readers, is what happens when my teacher has us read an article about the Orphan Train and how orphans lived in New York City.
Now, the thing about the cities is my own personal head cannon. A country has a fling with a human, as we all know condoms and birth control weren't exactly invented back then, so THE CITIES ARE THE PRODUCT! Bask in my flawed head cannon's awesomeness...XD
Anyway, don't hunt me down and pelt me with bricks because I haven't updated my other stories! *Hides in my bunker*
I rate comments higher than favs! And I rate constructive criticism higher than compliments! NO FLAMING.