Marguerite Giri
By: GrangerGurl2
Bonjour, my name is Meg Giri. My mother was Marguerite Giri, a dancer, and a dance teacher at the Paris Opera House. I have recently come to the decision that her story must be told, and I will tell you her story as if it were her speaking to you, not myself. Now, this is a very sad story you are going to hear, it is a story of love, lust, friendship, death, and sadly, betrayal.
The night is cold, and the other dancers and I decide to go to the gypsy fair. The sights! The sounds! The smells! As we approach one tent, with the words "Devil's Child" written above them, I begin to feel a knot within my stomach. The moment I enter that tent, I regret it.
The poor boy, with his face covered by a sack, the "Devil's Child," was beaten with a stick, and then, the sack was removed. All around me, the people make sounds of disgust, and gasp in horror, but I just look at him, and feel sorry for him. Slowly people begin to file out of the tent, and throw money at the man that beat the boy. I start to leave, but look back and see the boy strangle the man. I then decide to take action! I open the door, grab the boy's hand, and together we run back to the Paris Opera House.
As I lead him down the tunnels to the smugglers caves, I begin to wonder, 'What more can I do for this boy? We are both only eleven. I can hardly take care of myself.' Putting all negative thoughts aside, I find the perfect cave, and say, "Wait here, I'll be right back."
"Wait, what's your name?" he asks.
"My name is Marguerite Giri. What's yours?"
"I don't really have one. I've always been Devil's Child." He responds sadly.
In turn, I reply, "Well, I won't call you Devil's Child. I guess I'll have to name you myself."
"Okay." He says, shyly.
"Your name shall be… Erik!" I say, happily. Then I turn to leave, but first I say, "Remember, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." I wait for him to nod in agreement before I run off.