I know that stealing is wrong, I know that the little morsel of bread I clutch to my chest in this dark alleyway does not belong to me. Yet as I stand here and catch my breath, I can't feel very sorry for taking it when I need it more than the person I snatched it from. I'm so small, people always assume I'm no older than 11 or 12 even though I turned 15 years old not very long ago. I've always been small and thin, but with the lack of food lately I've gotten even smaller and thinner. I never would have thought that possible, I don't think it's supposed to be possible.
I must look pretty pathetic, being nothing more than skin and bones. My dark brown curls are a tangled and matted mess on my head, despite all my attempts to prevent it from happening, and my skin is as pale as I imagine a ghost's skin would be. On the bright side, I looked in a mirror the other day, and my eyes still look very pretty. They're big and brown, one of the stablehands that worked at my parents' horse farm always told me my eyes were the most striking thing about me. I wonder what ever became of him, I hope he found another job, he was always so nice to me.
My family once had one of the finest equestrian establishments in all of France, just outside of Paris. Very rich people would purchase riding and carriage horses from us, since they were so well bred. They were Andalusians, many of the ones used for breeding had been imported from other countries, and had all sorts of fancy paperwork. They were worth a lot of money, though I'm not sure in the end that they were auctioned off for their full value.
A few nights ago, our house caught fire in the middle of the night. I still have nightmares about it, it took so much from me. My father threw me out of a bedroom window, and I landed in the bushes below. Neither he or my mother were so lucky, they both perished in the fire, leaving me completely alone to fend for myself.
I've gotten by I guess, stealing morsels of bread like the piece I've just finished. I also still have a place to sleep at night, which I suppose it better than nothing at all. The winter is approaching though, and it's beginning to get very cold. Tonight I didn't wear my slippers, I only own the one pair and I don't want them to get worn out. But my bare feet are cold on the wet cobblestone streets as I begin my trek home.
As I leave the city, I grab a few handfuls of grass. I have family to feed, and though a few handfuls of grass isn't much, it's more than nothing. When the remains of my home come into view, I try not to look at it too much because it makes me sad. There are no horses anymore, they were all auctioned off after the fire and so now all the barns are empty. Two of the five barns have collapsed, the one closest to the house got a bit damaged by the fire, and since I couldn't fix it eventually it just fell down. The roof of another was torn off by a storm, and it fell not too long after that.
Two of the three remaining barns are just empty shells right now, they were just ordinary barns. The last barn though, the one where we kept our stallions, is the best one. It's not very big, but it certainly had the most work put into it. I would compare it to the inside of the Opera Populaire, it's just beautiful. I went to the Opera Populaire once, with my parents. It inspired my dream of becoming a dancer, a graceful ballerina who happened to ride horses on the side. However the fire happened a week after that, so I guess that means I'm never meant to be a dancer or a rider after all.
The stallion barn is also the place I call home now. As I walk in I'm greeted by the sweet scents of horses that still cling to the walls. I remember the big stallions that had once occupied the now empty stalls, they were the prettiest horses I'd ever seen and had names so fancy I could hardly even pronounce them when I was young. There is one horse here, the one I've picked grass for, he is still too young to be a breeding stallion but I know eventually he would have ended up here.
His name is Cesar, and his pedigree is perfect. The finest mare and the finest stallion had been hand selected by my mother and he was the result. She bred him for me, as a birthday present several years ago. As I approach his stall I can't help but smile affectionately as he hangs his head over the door and whinnies to me. I rub his velvety nose before offering the grass I'd picked, he nibbles it out of my flat palm delicately, as though afraid of hurting me. It's been raining lately, which is why he can only have this handpicked grass, but when the weather clears I plan to take him outside for some real grazing before snow falls and covers all the grass up.
Exhausted from my trip into the city, I pet him a final time before walking over to the stall next to his and letting myself in. I stretch and yawn before walking over a pile of straw I've been sleeping on and lying down. I've completely cleaned this stall except for this bit of straw, and brought the few belongings I have in here as well. I'd had a hideaway in the barn where the mares delivered their foals, because I liked to watch, so I have a blanket and a lantern, as well as a few books. I also have a stuffed rabbit I brought out of the house with me that night, and a music box that had been in the pocket of my dressing gown which I put on the night of the fire before being thrown out by my father.
I shake the thoughts from my head, not wanting to fall asleep thinking about the fire. Instead I think of the beautiful black stallion in the stall beside me, and all the things I want to do with him. Eventually I manage to fall asleep, and thankfully don't have a single nightmare.
I wake up mid-afternoon the next day, and it's drizzling outside. I lay in the straw for a little while, not moving. It's warm and though I wish I had a mattress I can't complain that I'm uncomfortable. Cesar's whinnying eventually rouses me, and I pull myself to my feet before smoothing out my dress, or at least trying to. It's my nightgown, and it was rather plain. Once upon a time it had been white, but being outside and sleeping in a barn has stained it light brown. I've tried washing it but I don't think that helped, I think it might have made it worse.
I walk to the end of the barn where I keep Cesar's grain, measuring it out carefully. We're beginning to near the bottom of the barrel, but I know my mother always kept tons of grain in all the barns, so all I'll have to do is go get another barrel when I do run out. All the grain is exactly the same after all! I'll be able to feed Cesar for a long time, even with the loss of the grain barrels in the barns that fell down.
Cesar waits patiently as I place the food in his bucket, before eating it up hungrily. His water bucket is halfway empty, usually I wait until it is entirely empty or right before I leave for the city before to fill it. With everything taken care of, I enter Cesar's stall and take a fistful of his mane, using it to pull myself up onto his coal black back. He hardly bats an eye at me as I lie on my tummy, resting my head on his neck. My thoughts drift once again to the opera house.
Perhaps I could still become a ballerina, why not? All I had to do was go down there and ask! I sit up, that was the answer! I had to go ask for a job! I dismount and leave Cesar's stall, standing out in the middle of the barn isle. "Watch this Cesar," I say, rolling up onto the balls of my feet and spinning around. I'm pretty dizzy when I stop, but I didn't fall down so that must mean I did it right! Cesar nickers at me before dipping his head down and grabbing another mouthful of food. He doesn't seem very impressed, "I have so been practicing! I'll practice more though since I believe I'm supposed to be on my toes when I do it."
The small stallion lifts his head and flickers his ears at me, as though he's still skeptical. I spend the rest of the day 'dancing' up and down the barn isle, and I figure out that if I keep my focus on one spot when I spin it stops me from getting dizzy. Finally I decide that I'm ready to go down to the Opera Populaire and ask for a job, so I enter my stall and flop into the straw to catch my breath. "When I go to Paris today, I'll go near the opera house, just for a peek," I tell Cesar. He snorts and I smile, "Don't worry, I'll be fine!"
With my breath caught, I stand and slip on my slippers and dressing gown, trying to make myself look at least a little presentable. I also try to comb my fingers through my hair but quickly give up on that endeavor as I hit knot after matt after knot. It'll have to do, I guess. Before I leave I fill Cesar's food and water buckets, just in case I take a long time coming back. He tosses his head and I hug him around the neck before kissing his nose and promising him I'll be back as soon as possible.
Closing and latching his stall door shut, I leave the barn and set off down the road towards Paris once again, hopefully for some food but more importantly, to see the opera house.