Nanette

Sandra was her name before they took her now they call her Lady Nanette when we were young we played in the dust yards together a special place dedicated to well the not so fortunate ones it was the only place we could go and not be beaten we did not belong anywhere else if we even try to step foot on the property of the rich and let me tell you that was practically everywhere you’d be lucky to make it home alive that night we were poor yes but we made the best we could out of our lives and we always had fun together she was my only true friend Sandra even though in rags had the most beautiful face and long black hair I always told her she was the only one I knew that could make the dirt come to life she would smile and say your momma must of poked you in the eyes when you were a baby but I must not of been the only one that thought she was something because one day when we were in the middle of our usual caroling a very well dressed man was passing by which wasn’t really that peculiar but then he stopped dead in his tracks and watched us for a good while he must of got a notion because no well tailored men would have ever walked upon the dust yards they’d be too worried a speck of dust would fall on their shoe without warning or word he grabbed hold of Sandra’s arm and dragged her away she was so brave she didn’t let out a single murmur I just stood there bewildered I wouldn’t dare say anything in fear it would get us both killed I heard word a few days later that they had her all made up in a dazzling black and purple gown that would float when the wind caught it her beautiful black hair pinned with little purple flowers and the left side of her face had been marked with cascading pink vines that hugged the corner of her eye the man that had taken her claimed her for his wife telling no one of her previous misfortunes and forbid her from speaking of them in turn she choose to completely silence her tongue never speaking a word to him or anyone again she hated the rich and now she had to live her life as one to this day my tears fall imagining what it would be like to walk in the shoes of Lady Nanette contest: Tell Her Story by: Virginia Frayer