The cold winds blow against the soft wood of her home. Her candle flickers with every second that passes. She wants to do it. She wants to be free. Away from the rules and the burdens. Out in the wild. Her bag is heavy on her shoulders, but she can't carry it, for she would have to drop her candlesticks, causing the flames to engulf her. She would be free, but others wouldn't. The door creaked as she slowly opened it, the snow building at her face. She was terrified, but happy. Goosebumps rose on her skin, the storm increasing its power. The pond that led to the woods was a few blocks down. Her faith in freedom depending on that small, thin layer of ice. It toke almost half an hour for her to get to the pond. She had taken the time to cover up the tracks so she wouldn't be traced. Never wanting to be found, wanting to hold on to that freedom she would have.It was usually this cold in New York. But in this cold winter of 1830, it had been worse. Many deaths caused by the cold. She toke small steps on the ice, not wanting to slip. (Can't see post anymore, will finish up proloude in next post.
A door creaked open, slowly and silently, as a woman walked out. Not wanting to be caught, the girl ran for her life. But the ice couldn't catch up. She didn't know... And she never would have known. Known that she would die from trying to get freedom. The ice fell in, taking her with it. She fought to swim up, but the current was too strong. The cold waters pushed down on her, like knives pinning her to a wall.