PROLOGUE
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the research. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. It's simply a might too bad, really.
As Arabella Sven stepped off the ship in New York, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride, desperation, happiness, fear, and a bit lonely. She had spent the last four months attempting to get to the United States of America, from her mother country of Russia. Both her parents had long been gone, her father was murdered by soldiers on March 11, 1917, during a riot. Her mother had disappeared three days prior, on March 8, during the bread riots in Petrograd. Arabella had spent three months hiding in a small bunker outside of Moscow, sneaking out during the night and stealing what food she could get her hands on, taking money off the ground, and attempting to hitch a ride on one of the sacrad ships to America. Finally, after three starving months, she was able to barter for an one-way ticket to the great land of oppurtunity, America.
By the time the ship docked in New York, Arabella had seven dollars in her coat pocket, the clothes she was wearing, and the small cap that she saw on deck when she woke up in the morning, and nothing else. How she was going to make it anywhere past the end of the ships' steps, she didn't know.
Arabella watched as a young boy, maybe six or seven in age, pushed past her and down the long plank to the first checkpoint. He stood with his head held high, his back ramrod straight, and his hands clenched in determination. He had on an oversized cap smashed in his hair, which was dirty blonde. His ears were large and poked out, giving him a look of animation. His face was clearly freckled, and his skin was light under the spots. He wore a tattered child's suit, a double-brested grey vest and matching wool pants.
Arabella continued to keep an eye on the boy as he found his way around the checkpoints the Americans had set up to greet the ship. She watched as an American man prodded him firmly in the gut, made a mark on the bright yellow piece of paper he was carrying, and send him to the next checkpoint, where another American man grabbed his jaw and started looking at his mouth. It didn't take long for that man to grab the young boy's yellow card and make a mark, a slightly disgusted look on his face.
The small boy continued through each of the checkpoints, and Arabella followed him ardiously.
"Card." A large American man said to Arabella as she stepped up to the first checkpoint, attempting to keep the small boy in her line of sight.
"Isemheisem meniah*?" Arabella said quietly. The man had thick black hair, which fell just below his ears. The twisted curls fell into his face, and he kept swiping his hand across his forehead to get them out of his eyes, which were darker than his hair. His skin was tanned by the sun, and his body was sharp.
"Card." The man held out his hand impatiently. They were tanned and calloused, stripped of any vanity by work. Swipe.
"Ye chovaline, ye nah poniman.*" Arabella said, shaking her head.
"Card- for Christ's sake!" Swipe. The man grabbed the yellow card from Arabella's hand and held it up for her to see. "Card." he said slowly, drawing the word until it was worth twice it's original length, and waving the item violently in Arabella's face. "Do you understand?" Arabella nodded.
The man made a mark on the yellow card and handed it back to Arabella.
"Now, you want to go to the next place and..." The man trailed off. Swipe. "You don't understand a word I am saying, do you?"
"I speek leetle Eenglish." Arabella said, bowing her head in the attempt to say the correct words. Her thick, brown hair fell, obscuring her face from obvious view. Each strand was matted with dirt and grime, the consolation for a three month boat trip, along with living in the streets for so long. Arabella's skin was dirty as well. Her face was splotchy with mud, her hands were caked in dirt, and there was a prominent smell coming from her skin.
"Obviously." The man muttered under his breath. "Here," he said, shoving the yellow card into Arabella's hand, "Take this and go over there." He pointed to the next station where the young boy had just been prodded in the stomach. "When the man asks for your card," Arabella held up the yellow card, "Yes, when he asks for the card, give him that." The man pointed to her card. Arabella smiled, nodded, and stood in place.
"Over there." The man said, pushing Arabella in the correct direction. Swipe.
Arabella walked to the place where the man had pointed, and she stood in line until she was right in front of another man. This man had beautiful blonde hair and piercing golden eyes. His skin was attractively pale, almost as pale as his white coat, and he smiled kindly as Arabella stared at him.
"Hello, dear." The blonde man said kindly. "My name is Doctor Cullen. I'm going to examine you quickly to make sure that you're not bringing any deadly disease into the country." Arabella nodded, smiling slightly. Doctor Cullen's voice was very calming. "What's your name?" Doctor Cullen asked Arabella as he pulled back her eyelids.
Arabella had learned many cautionary phrases of English before boarding the ship. She knew the phrases like, "I speak little English," and "Where do I go?" but also "What is your name?" and "Do you need help?"
"I am name Arabella." She said, pointing to her chest to emphasize her comment.
"Well, Arabella, I'm sure you're quite overwhelmed, with all the new sights and nonsense. Are your parents with you?" Doctor Carlisle said. Arabella looked at Doctor Cullen.
"I speek leetle Eenglish." she said.
"Your parents... Uhm, 'Geduh, vashul ideasitity?'*" Doctor Cullen said.
"Dead." That was one word she had known for a long time.
A/N: Okay, so the Russian characters don't properly transfer into fanfiction(dot)net, I dunno if it's my computer or the website. So I did my best with the pronounciation of the words, and I've included the actual Russian on my profile. The translations are just below.
Isemheisem meniah? means Excuse me?
Ye chovaline, ye nah poniman. means I am sorry, I do not understand.
Geduh, vashul ideasitity? means Where are your parents?
So, if that's horridly incorrect (I can read and write Russian quite well for only using Rosetta Stone for two months...two months ago, but as far as speaking, hearing and understanding... not so much) please don't hate me horribly. I didn't know how else to do it.
Anyways, I think asking for reviews is a good idea. I'd really like to have a few reviews before I post the next chapter, so I know if people like this or not... it's so hard to gague what sort of story is interesting! lol. Okay, so please please please let me know what you think of this idea, send me a review (and add me to author/story alerts! heehee) please please, because apparently I'm not above begging for reviews. And this is my first fanfiction, so I'm extremely nervous about what everyone will think!
Oh, and please please please check out my beta's (and good friend) fanfiction stuff. Her penname is ***BROKENTOPAZ.*** She's on leave right now with some serious family issues, but she's got a good story called The Pact and I know she'd love a review or two even though she won't be updating soon, and a lot of great oneshots as well! It's Twilight, except for a couple oneshots.
So yeah, thanks so much for reading the prologue of my story and please let me know what you think!
Love,
JMHB