A/n: This is just a short story I had to write for an English class. I really enjoyed the overall effect it gave and how much effort I actually put into a school assignment. The people who did read it said it was written brilliantly but I’ll allow you to make that judgment. Thanks for listening to my mindless ramblings, enjoy!

Tomorrow
Written by: OpalEssence

Her breath was failing her, if she didn’t halt her escape she’d soon collapse. Her mouth was parched of liquid, her head swimming in an ocean of thoughts and dehydration. Her exquisite dress was torn, covered in blood; her face was scratched, bruised and utterly grotesque. In her arms she carried a small, tightly wrapped bundle of blankets.

The woman slowed to a walk and gently stripped her thick heeled shoes from her aching feet. Breathing was difficult, she’d never sprinted so far in her life, she, herself, was surprised what determination she’d had. Her copper hair fell from its elegant bun as she staggered over to a wooden crate and sat upon it, letting her feet relax. When fresh oxygen finally reached her she inhaled deeply and stared at her surroundings.

A narrow alley had been her entrance to this sanctuary. Noticing what part of town she’d ended her flight in hadn’t crossed her mind, bluntly, it simply seemed irrelevant. All she was concerned about was that she was safe. The bundle in her arms squirmed and let out a tiny squeak that was barely audible among the wrappings. The woman tore her emerald eyes from the crowded street and down to care for her small child. As she held her baby close to her chest she could feel it shiver from the frosty breeze. She knew that her daughter wouldn’t last long in this bitter weather, but what could she do? The last few dollars she’d owned had been lost in her escape.

A sudden crash from the alley made her jump causing her child to cry. Terrible yells were heard, feeling it was no longer safe, she stood from her crate and lost herself within the crowd. Her pursuers had caught up with her.

Two men, in their pinstriped suits, came bursting into the horde of Christmas shoppers. Exhausted, the shorter, chubbier of the two stopped and placed his hands on his knees gasping for air.

“Joe, we can’t stop, she’ll be miles ahead of us.” His companion said venomously as he paced the sidewalk looking over the heads of passers-by.

Joe stood up rubbing a stitch in his side, “I ain’t the most athletic, Ed, why didn’t you ask them Turners to help ya?”

Ed strode over to his illiberal friend, scowling, “You know perfectly well why I chose you to help, Joe. Do you think for a second that anyone else at the country club would’ve helped me carry out my intentions?”

“Well, I ain’t so sure I wanna help ya now. That pretty girl o’ yours can run like the dickens she can.” The tiny man had finally caught his breath, flaying his hands around as he spoke, “Can’t we get some chestnuts or somethin’? I’m starving, all this running and all.”

Ed growled deep within his throat, his grey eyes searching for a sign of his wife and daughter. A gentle flake of snow fell from the smoky clouds overhead settling itself among his jet black hair. It was chilling, if he didn’t rescue his daughter from that woman soon, she’d freeze to death. They had no choice but to press forward and hope for the best. He began to walk, hunched against the developing gale, up the street. Joe noticed his movements and hurried to catch him.

Far ahead, his wife was huddled in a small meat shop awaiting the flurry to pass. After she’d told him her story, the butcher had allowed her food and safety until she felt she could leave. In the back of the shop she sat on a chair nursing her child and eating the delicious soup the butcher’s wife had graciously made her.

Not an hour had passed before she heard the tinkling of bells and a gust of cold wind entering the shop front. Her heart began to race but calmed when she heard a woman ask for a ham steak. She couldn’t carry on like this, in fear of what her husband might do to her child. She knew that her daughter would never be safe as long as Ed knew where she was, or had the slightest inkling of her whereabouts. There was nothing for it, as much as it pained a new mother’s heart; she knew her daughter would never be safe with her. This realization tugged at her emotions and she let silent tears fall. She sang softy as her tiny child ate, “Just thinking about, tomorrow, clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow. Till there’s none...”

The baby stopped nursing and fell into a deep sleep in the woman’s arms. She embraced her child tightly and was just finishing her meat and mushroom soup when the chimes sounded again. She gasped loudly when she heard her husband’s voice question the butcher. The woman grabbed her severed coat and put it on, hiding her child in the quilted blankets.

She crept quietly across the wooden floorboards to the doorframe that led to the front of the shop. Gently kneeling down she watched the scene as it played out in front of her. Her heart was pounding in her ears nearly deafening her. Momentarily, the woman looked past the large man wearing a blood-stained smock at the man she once loved. Her whole body trembled when she saw him, and waited no longer before retreating back where she had eaten. She searched frantically for an exit, her emerald orbs frosted with tears. She couldn’t let him take her; she’d find a place to hide her daughter, a place he’d never look. The woman found the back door and rushed over trying to open it. It was jammed; the ice had frozen it shut.

“I just want to take a quick look around if you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Foreton. If I find nothing of interest I shall take heed of you and leave.” Ed said to the man before motioning to Joe, who was salivating over the hotdogs and burgers, to look in the back room.

“I say sir! You shall take heed of my wishes right now! I implore you not to go back there!” The butcher replied hotly, hoping the woman had found a way out.

Ed waited patiently as Joe searched the back room. He came back moments later shrugging, “Nothing back there, Ed. I don’ think she came in ‘ere.”

Slightly frustrated but composed, Ed turned back to the fuming butcher, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The two men started to leave, but before Joe had closed the door, he spoke once again to the butcher, “You may wanna fix you door back there. Happy Christmas!”

Wondering what on earth the chubby man was talking about, Mr. Foreton went to the back and saw that the door to the back street had been pushed down. He smiled and resumed his work, whistling carols.

The woman jogged along the street until she reached the largest building, St. Anne’s Orphanage. Wishing she had a better plan, the woman reached into her pocket and drew out a note she’d written earlier. The woman tucked it neatly into her daughter’s blankets and kissed the top of her head. She laid her down gently upon the doorstep and tore the locket from her own neck. The woman gave half to the small child and kept half for herself.

Tears streaming down her face, she kissed her daughter’s cheek and rang the doorbell. Once she heard footsteps coming she ran across the street and watched the caretaker pick up her daughter and bring her in the building, ripping open the note. She dried her tears with her coat sleeve and whispered through the flurry, “I’ll be back for you, my angel. My Annie.”