AURORA
PROLOGUE
Only the sound of an old antique clock ticking in the hall broke the night silence. Aurora Janeway sat before her elegant Victorian dressing table, her raven black hair flowing over her long white nightdress trimmed with lace, and looked through a photo album bound with dark blue velvet embroidered with silver roses and birds. The edges were threadbare and the heart shaped handle of the little silver key that locked it, was worn. The key was kept in a beautiful gold jewelry box. When the lid was open, a sweet melody played and a mechanical ballerina doll danced. Aurora had kept the key there for over eight years. She had received the album as a gift on her seventh birthday and over the years had filled it with photos of people and places that were precious to her. Tears welled in her eyes as she gazed at an old picture of her mother. She was laughing happily, and the white ballerina dress she was wearing glittered in the sun. Aurora closed her eyes and could see her mother dance before her, could hear her laughter, and could feel her arms around her as she lifted her into the air and they danced together...
She missed her mother so much and had no idea if she would ever see her again. She reached inside her jewelry box and pulled out a gold locket she had only moments before taken off. It was a good-bye gift from her mother and contained a lock of her graying hair.
"I believe in the old days, darling" she had said as she presented her with the locket, "two people who were beloved to each other would exchange a lock of hair when they had to part for a long time. It was something to remember the other person by and to look at when they were missed." From her little silver bag she had pulled out a tiny scissors and a little gold box lined with white silk. "Let me have a lock of your hair too, darling."
She had tried not to cry as her mother cut off a piece of her hair and placed it in her treasure box. She had not wanted her mother to go, but knew that she had to. Then her mother had then taken her in her arms and held her tighter than she had ever held her. "I love you, Aurora," she had whispered, "so very, very, much. Always remember that."
Aurora touched the photograph, touched her mother's face. "Come home," she whispered. "Please come home."
END OF PROLOGUE