Hello everyone, suddenly I am in such a writing craze and I saw the #thewhisquad contest come around and I thought: why not try? So here I am in the middle of the night, writing a story, hoping it doesn't suck.

Calm Before the Storm

winter, road, and snow image snow, winter, and christmas image

I slept in what once must have been her bedroom, the bedroom of the girl before me. I know she must have been there because I can feel it. Like when you walk into an historical building and you sense the things before, the people, the events. I can hear the voices, smell the scents, feel the shifts of air, people moving.
The girl is gone now, this feeling of mine the only thing reminding me of her existence. Reminding me I am replaceable. And alone.

girl, forest, and vintage image

A bed, a table, a lamp, two checkered curtains and a newspaper, odd. We usually don't get things to read, especially not on our first day of work, especially not newspapers. Afraid it might disappear if I don't take hold of it now, I promptly stuff the paper under my armpit.
The windowpile is covered with snow, i resist the urge to open the window and lay my hand upon it. I have always loved that cold, numbing feeling,
Resolutely I turn around to my bag, still behind me where I left it, on the floor. I kneel down, in search for my camera. I want to remember this moment of stillness, the snow falling silently against my window as if hell isn't about to break loose tomorrow. Reaching into my back I feel the hard case of my camera, I pull it out and capture the silent white world outside my window.

camera, photography, and aesthetic image

I always try to see the beauty in things, creating my own perfect reality in pictures. Those pictures are my home, in lack of a real home. Chambermaidens or hired girls, as most people call us, don't have homes. We move and move, from one family to another. We do the dirty work, hard work, we have to prove our thankfullness for being spared when they killed everyone. We girls, me, the former occupant of this room, and others, are still alive because we were the pretty ones, the young ones, the ones worthy of sparing. But now we are nothing more but captives of the regime.

quotes, place, and stay image

Looking at the headline on the front page of the paper, now in my hands, I feel like I am dreaming. This can't be real. I close my eyes and open them again, it is real. The letters, black on white clearly read:

''Counsellor Glenden Killed in Unexpected Attack''

There is resistance, change is coming