AWWWW YEAH PEOPLE! Comments from me now will be in bold. ENJOY!

London, the turn of the century, (Because there was only one century) as seen through frightening eyes. Which is not uncommon here (Uncommon where? In London? Like, the whole of London? Or are we in some kind of extra scary portion? Oh, eighth grade me)

The eyes in question are beautiful. (Of course they are) Large, shadowed orbs of the lightest green, unlike any other shade in nature. (That’s right. Of all the thousands upon millions of shades of green, this shade can only be found in my special snowflake’s eyes. Suck it, genetics) The lashes could stand to be longer, but they are beautiful, none the less. (See what I did there? I tried to make her flawed. Poor girl. However could she get through life with stumpy eyelashes? Really, I was too cruel. Also, I’m not fixing spelling or other errors, so get ready to meet my mad love affair with needless commas!)

She should have kept them closed. (Drrrrrama!)

****

“I should have stayed with Anna and Micheal… Why would I go off on my own like this!” (Well, probably because you’re a huge Mary Sue. Also, to younger me, this was how all main characters enter a story. Everything starts with a line of dialouge. Everything.)

Catalina (Ugh, I was so wishing I was wrong about that name), a girl no older than twenty, (So, she could be nine? Or two? Or eighteen?) cautiosly picked her way down the allyway.

“I do not belong here… Vermin- Rats! If I see one, I may die. No, I will die.”  (Ugh.)

Had it not been the middle of the night, the aformentioned eyes would shine out with disgust at her surroundings, which would look better as well with the light of dawn. (I… I am sorry. I have no idea what this means. Her eyes would look better? The alley would look better? Damn you purple prose! Also, if this is “turn of the century” London, what is a girl under the age of twenty doing wandering around alleys in the middle of the damn night?)

Braids of coal black hair coiled thickly around the crown of her head, contrasting with the red of her lips, and the white of her skin. She was indeed what some would call a “Classic Beauty”. (So I ripped off Snow White?)

But where had this young lady come from? Surely she did not just appear out of nowhere? (It would be more interesting if she did. Now, this page was actually inserted later because I decided through the middle of the novel that the intro was rushed. I also throw all reality out the window as to what good young ladies did back in the TofC London times)

****

The Golden Herring. The only pub in London that had less than thirty whores around it. (That is a LOT of whores. Grade Eight Shannon, you scandal starter! Also, could I have picked a lamer pub name? I wasn’t even trying.) Only twenty minutes ago, our lady friend was also there. ow only her friends are left. (Is she friends with the whores? Oh, please say I gave her a whore friend. Because all girls of social standing in TofC London hung around with whores and drank in pubs late at night. It’s a historical fact)

There was Anna, the flashy golden-haired goddess with the biggest mouth in all of town (Sadly, not a whore), along with Michael, who’s haircolor was shared by his sister, as a crowning glory of yellow silk. His mouth was drawfed in size onlyby Anna’s. (I am loving these period appropriate names)

“Let’s have another round! It’s on me!” thundered the voice of another very drunken friend.

“This is getting insane! None of you can even think straight. I’m walking home.” Shooting to her feet, Cataline strode to the door, her green eyes flashing with anger. “Every day you all become drunk of Lords! (I totally had no idea what that meant) Well, I want it to stop!”

The door slamed shut behind her, and Cataline was all alone in the dark. (So, to recap, our lady of fine society who is under twenty hangs out regularly with a bunch of drunken louts and whores. Riiiiight.)

****
Cataline wasn’t even halfway home when the wind blew across the clouds and rain began pelting her skin with sharp cold blows.  “Wonderful! What else can go wrong!”

“Catalina! Wait!”

She turned, the loud noise startling her. “Micheal? Is… Is that you?”

It was.

(I love how I indented that, like it being him is a Big Deal.)

Thee, in front of the dark-haired girl, stood the boy with the golden smile. (I am laughing so hard at the sentence)

“Cataline, my dear… Please come back. It’s far too cold out here for one like you. Come, your dress doesn’t even have sleeves…” (In TotC London)

He reached out for her hand, that smile flashing out to her. (He sounds like he’s actually Jack the Ripper) But the proud Catalina would not accept the help he offered.

“Micheal Duprat, (BWAHAHAH!) I don’t need your drunken help. Touch me when your sober!”

His shoulders slumped foreward, cheeks turning to a bright red. “Gosh, I wish you wouldn’t be so angry. (We are suddenly time warped to the fifties. Is that when this takes place?) I… I mean, you know I like you, love… Please just come on back? (Now we’re in the South, ya’ll).

Anger flared up in her once more. “Micheal! Just go away! I don’t need you at all!”

Turning on her heel, Catalina stalked away, leaving a very bewildered man behind her. (To say nothing of the readers)

****

All alone in the alleyway, hope had left Catalina. (What! She’s been out there, like ten minutes! She was already halfway home! How did she manage to get lost?) She wrapped her arms around herself, shvering in the cold rain. “…I’m going to die… I know it.

“You certainly will die.” chuckled a voice. “If you stay out in the cold, Chere.” (Another character introduced by talking. Also, needless french!)

Catalina spun around in shock. How long had this other person been watching her. What if her life was mow threatened?

Through a haze of rain and wind, her sight fell upon a low window, out of which a person leaned.

Her hair was a thick mass of red curls, bangs which had grown too long and covered her eyes from veiw. Her complexion was a darker shade of beige, making her look exotic and mysterious. (So… it’s a red-headed woman, with no visable eyes, who has a tan? Seriously, eight grade me. A darker shade of beige?!)

But through all her beauty, the hautness that held her so high, something didn’t seem right about the woman. (What?)

“Well? Are you going to just stand there and get soaked to the skin?”

“….how do I know your not going to kill me? You could be one of those whore dealers, or perhaps some murderer.”  (Not the dreaded whore dealer!)

The stranger laughed. “Ma Petiet, don’t worry. I’m neither of those things, I can assure you. Now, come in our of the wind.” (Oh God, I am so sorry. I forgot how much French I dumped into this mess)

The resistance Catalina once had was destroyed by the rain, freezing her to the bone. She gave in. She entered. (Entered where? The window the woman was leaning out of? Why did I not mention a door?)

****

Inside, the house was nowhere the hideous slum it seemed to be. (Backhanded compliment much?) It was warm, and inviting. As soon as Catalina stepped into the main room, a calming seem to enter, especially when the female of mystery handed her a stack of towels to dry her hair with. (I need to have “female of mystery” added to my business cards)

“You look a sight… Poor thing. I’d ask if you lived in alleys, but by the gem around your neck, I’d say no.” (Catalina only wears her best jewelry when she goes out to not drink at whore bars.)

The woman smiled, and her lightly accented voice was soothing to the ears. (She is not  from around here. Have you grasped that yet?)

Catalina wasn’t sure if she should answer. Her mind, now warm again, was starting to realize that she was sitting in a strange room, with someone she knew nothing about.

“What’s wrong? You look nervous Midow.” (Wait, wait, what? What the eff does Midow mean? *goes to google it* Ok… so.. it means Man Window. So it must have been something else that I picked up from something and the shamelessly used for my own work of genius, horribly misspelling it in the process. Go Shannon!)

“…I’ve just realized I know nothing about you Miss.”

The woman cleared her throat, looking like something has stung her. The image flashed away from her expression before Catalina could comment on it. (I just she doesn’t like it when people know her? Or don’t know her? God, I have no clue.)

“Marie. Please, call me Marie.” (Of Course.) She smiled softly. “And you are…”

Annnnd that’s it for now. Gotta end on a cliff hanger! We’ve gone through four and a half pages, guys. I hope you enjoyed it. More next time!