Cradles and Caskets, Love and Despair.

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It is the beggining of the 19th century, and your a dark natured girl named Justine. (Though you go by Jane) This is only the beggining of a turn of events filled with betrayal, heartache, mental battles, horror, and suspense. (This is simply a sample clay base to these things.)

You are now Jane, forget about this being a quiz, Think of it as a role to play. Get to know her world, and maybe even find love. But could you survive past this point?

Created by: Spite

  1. " Your soul enables me a justified feast, but your heart seems much more suitable for a lifetime of lying cold in a desperate grave, Annastasia." I whisper the words slowly, like a prayer. The light fades calmly from outside my window. Glancing outside, I watch the sun hide behind the clouds, quite cowardly, I thought to myself. Sitting up, I disentangle myself from the sheets, my legs damp with sweat. The room smelled of inscense and dust, and as I looked around, the smell assaulted my nose, making me crinkle it in dissatisfaction. Everything seemed like a lucid dream, my body kept sucking me into sleep. Yawning, I release myself from my dormant spell and clumsily ease myself out of my bedroom.
  2. "Jane, are you awake, child? Oh good, get dressed, your going with your sister and I to the park." My mother gently implies, patting my cheeks with cold fingers. Shivering, I wrap a quilt around my shoulders, then curl up on the couch. I see my fair little sister playing with her dolls in the kitchen, and smile at her innocence. Her golden corkscrew curls dancing along with her light grey eyes, so pretty, so pretty... That being thought, I was quickly reminded of my plain features, cold brown eyes, crimson bark hair, and pale, colorless skin. Disheartened, I walk over, kiss her tender cheek, then start to impale olives on toothpicks, buttering bread and packing water bottles. This simple task soothed my nerves, and I soon forget all jealousy and drowsiness.
  3. It was an almost movie-like scene. The rolling green grass, tall oak trees eloping with Spanish moss, delicate dumplings running around with unending energy. I have never quite enjoyed such a cliche script, but nevertheless, I attempted to enjoy myself for the mean while. Trying to imagine dragons devouring the sky and dead damsles rotting in their crumpling towers, my mind seemed to no longer see what lay before me, no, I saw without seeing. The drunkard crying down the street, the cuts and bruises decorating the powdered faces of a quaint family to our side, the lonely, grim boy scetching my portrait. What interesting stories they must have to tell. Resting my hands in my lap, I take and savour the bitter moment.
  4. "Jane, go watch your sister. I will set out the food while your gone." Mother, such a stout, kindfaced woman. She was always of good nature, yet, I have heard her weeping for Father on many occasions. Obeying her command, I walk over to the grim faced boy and place myself a short distance away, just enough to be able to see if some odious pervert were to attempt to snatch my lotus flower of a sister. Yet, curiously, I was tempted to peek at my neighbors scetch pad. Looking out from the corner of my eye, I could clearly see he wasn't sketching me at all, quite the contrary, he was drawing out a universe entirely his own. Noticing my admiration, he turns his head my way. His features were astonishing, I must admit. He was raven haired, palid, and seemed quite solemn. Though it was his eyes that unnerved me. Blushing, I quickly reprimand myself for being such a nuisance. "Forgive me, but you are quite a talent. It seems I was quite rude just then." My voice came out weak, doubtful, I felt as if I had just caught fever. His dark eyes seem to shine. "Not at all, as my dream is to become an artist, I should accustom myself to stares. As should my brother, what an intellect he has! What would be your name, then?"
  5. He aprubtly turns his head towards the paper, seeming as if he hadn't heard me at all. A shadowy aura seems to eminate from him, "My name is Damian." Damian. Mother told me about that name. "A young man by the name of Damian is not one to be associated with, sweet. It means demon, and only parents enveloped in the occult would give their child such a nasty namesake." There was a pensive silence, and for a while it seemed the entire world had become mute. Damian's face lit up, and I could see a wicked gleam in his eyes, growing like ivy. " What a hideous day it is." "I know." " I just loathe the sun so!" "Quite." "Your mother is calling, I believe." "She can wait." I just glared at him, a frown plastered on my face. He seemed very amused, yet, so was I. I could see my mother trotting towards us, her hands on her hips, annoyance written in her expression. "Jane, Emile! Come!" Mother called. I look back a Damian, but he is once again absorbed in his work. Emile jumps out of my lap and clings to Mother's skirt.
  6. I ate little, chewing slowly on a piece of bread. The grainy substance made me want to choke, so I washed it down with a bit of whine. It was late evening, and I was tired and in an ill mood. Damien was no where to be seen, so I sat, twiddling my thumbs, brooding and bored. And, unknowingly, I fell asleep. Dreaming of nothing but the sound of the public surrounding me.
  7. "Jane dear, it is time to go." Smiling, she adds, " my cherished little piglet." This made me very cross, for I despised it when she refered to me as such. (Since I was already 15, ripe for a betrothel, as mother would sometimes comment.) I was put to gather all our things into the basket. I suppose I was making quite a scene in my irritation, for a boy my age offered to help. "No thank you." I shot out into the air, and turned around. I almost toppled over, for he was so dreadfully close. A white haired, blue eyed boy with cream skin stood before me, arms extended. His peculiar yet attractive appearance rattled me greatly, but my voice came out clear. "Well, if you insist on it, I must know your name." Smiling, he tilted his head to the left. "Fredirick." If I wouldn't have known better, I would have thought he had just made it up on the spot. "I go by Jane, now assist me, and please not at such close proximity." He nods in silence, then puts things in order for me. " Thank you." I say gratefully. His eyes, now quite enlarged, look at me intently. Looking around, I see no one in sight. Panic settles lightly in my heart. "How about I walk you home, Jane? It is much to late to go alone." As if on cue, the town falls asleep. Every light switches off in the houses, and the sun lies unconscious from the days work. It seemed I had no choice, reluctantly, I walk alongside him.
  8. I hope you enjoyed the beggining/sample of the series to come. I made this more of a story, instead of referring to "you " I write "I ". Yet I meant for you to be Jane. Since this is just a sample there isn't much interaction, but I simply hope to foreshadow the plot. Comment and rate so I can improve it. (Constructive critsism only please.)
  9. How was your day?
  10. Goodbye for now, Jane. I will try to make your story one to remember!

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