A/N: Okay, the writing is MUCH better in this chapter (thank god). I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to favourite, follow, and review! I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far! (even though there are only 2 chapters)
It was a rather warm Friday afternoon. I had just come from the butcher's shop, where Destin worked. The job hardly seemed suiting for his over-friendly personality, but it was the only work that seemed to be available.
I wandered through Paris for a while, not having a particular agenda. That was what I liked about being homeless. No, I didn't enjoy the constant scowls I received from every other person, or the hard grounds that I slept on, it was the fact that I was free. There was no job to chain me down, no bills, and no responsibility. I know it sounds juvenile, but I liked it. Paris was my playground.
I walked until my feet ached in the cramped space of my boots, and so I found a small wooden bench nicely situated on the sidewalk across the street from the Paris Opera house.
I reached into the cloth bag I had had for as long as I knew, and pulled out the crumbling sketchbook from under my scarf that rested, coiled like a snake, at the top. The sketchbook was almost identical to the one that I kept a few more layers down. That one was my mother's sketchbook. My talent had come from her. I always remembered as a young child, peering over my mother's shoulder to catch a glimpse at her latest sketch. She would then catch me peeking, and then hunch over further over her drawing so I couldn't see. "You can't see it yet! It's not finished!" She would giggle. She didn't always shield her drawing process from me though; she often liked to try to teach me. She showed me how it was okay to make mistakes in the drawings, as long as I tried to make something of it. A line accidently drawn across a person's face became a tree branch they were hiding behind. A misshapen petal became a butterfly's wing as it landed on the daisy.
I sighed at the memories, a soft smile on my lips, as I began to draw in my own sketchbook. Looking up at the opera house for reference, I continued to draw the outline. Turning the pencil to the side, I was able to add shading at the base, and by pointing it on its tip, I carved tiny details into the statues that formed around the windows.
I did not stand to move away from the bench until I considered the drawing to be complete. As I started to walk away from the opera house, a thought came to mind. What does it look like on the inside? A smirk grew on my lips as I quickly turned around again, and sprinted across the street, dodging the oncoming carriages and people.
All one had to do to sneak into a place, was to act like they belonged. So, I lifted my chin up, adjusted my skirt, and marched confidently into the opera house. It also helped that no one was attending the doors to even notice me.
Automatically, I was thrown back in awe. The architecture, the statues, the marble, the gold, it was all overwhelmingly beautiful. I brushed my hand along the carvings that ran along the wall as I walked further into the building.
I stopped as I marveled at the grand staircase that lay before me. The building was art in itself. I would have to force Destin to come with me next time, even though he claimed to hate opera.
"Who let that street rat into this opera house?" A voice bellowed from behind me. As I turned around quickly, I found two men standing there, one with strangely shaped silver hair, and the other with brown hair. They looked rather obnoxious.
The silver haired man stomped over to me and grabbed my arm.
"I was just looking for a bathroom," I lied horribly.
"Go find one somewhere else! This is not a place for people like you!" The brown haired man said angrily.
Before I knew it, I was pushed out of the opera house, and I was tripping my way down the stairs as I tried to run after they closed the doors behind me.
I kept running until I found my way into the butcher's shop. Destin seemed to be handing a heavy brown paper bag to an older man, supposedly with some sort of meat in it.
"Destin!" I shouted, startling the old man as he took his paper bag, and exited the shop.
"Charlotte, you can't keep scaring away my customers." He said, giving me a teasing smile.
"Oh hush," I replied, "Listen, I went into the opera house and-" I was interrupted by a confused Destin.
"-You went into the opera house? You shouldn't go in there. I don't trust those people." He said, furrowing his bushy eyebrows.
"They're not that bad," I defended.
He gave me a look that said "are you so sure about that?" and he let out a chuckle, "I bet."
"But, Destin, it was beautiful! You should have seen it! The architecture was phenomenal! Not to mention the paintings…" I trailed off as I started to play with my short messy red hair.
"No, the paintings?" Destin said mockingly. I gave him a friendly shove from across the counter that separated us.
"You just have no appreciation for art," I said, sticking my nose up and crossing my arms across my chest.
"And you have to much," he laughed. "But really, Charlotte, stay out of there."
"Why does it matter to you so much?"
"Because I don't want you to get hurt."
A/N: Destin, what'd you mean? Ah, so here's a better chapter! What do you like about the story so far? what don't you like? please just leave reviews!:D Thank you guys so much for reading!
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