STORY I WROTE MANY YEARS AGO IN SEVENTH GRADE. IT IS HORRIBLE I WON'T LIE, BUT I DECIDED TO PUBLISH IT ANYWAY SO AS IT'S NOT A TOTAL WASTE. I KNOW IT'S BAD SO ANY AND ALL FLAMES WILL BE IGNORED. TWO CHAPTER STORY ON A LITTLE THING I WOULD LIKE TO CALL: VICTORIA'S PAST.
PREFACE
I could hear my name being called; a chant. So many emotions behind it, love, hate, anger. Only one voice spoke of love, only one ached for me to be away from here. I used to be loved; now I'm shunned by even my own mother. Then shrieks came from the chanters, and an iceberg smashed into me. How was that possible when I'm being burned at the stake?
