Abella Natalii Zola

    Bright lights. Oh how they were so bright. Why must the sun rise so bright after such a torturious day? Yesterday Mr. Zola came up into the attic and told me if I wished to be let out early I was to give my whole heart to him and only then he might find it in himself to forgive me and release me from my prison. I refused. I told him I would rather rot here in the attic then give myself to him willingly. He just smiled and told me I had fifteen more days up here and that should give me plenty of time to think. So he left and I cried myself to sleep that night, fearful that I really would rot in the attic.
     So now I sit next to the small window starring out at the empty cobble stone streets. I was unable to see the carpenters house from here but how I wished I could. Just to see him would make all this bearable. I could remember back to the first day I had met him. I had been in the yard picking strawberries for dinner when he came out for wood from the pile. He picked up an arm load and disappeared back inside and from that moment I had been taken with him. I spent many days out in the garden hoping that he would notice me when he came out for wood and one day he did. He had just picked up his arm load of wood when I stuck my finger with a rose thorn. I yelped softly and he jumped and looked over. I looked down as I dabbed my finger on my apron, heat rising in my cheeks. He set the load of wood down and walked over to the fence dividing our yards. When I looked up he spoke and then I couldn't look away.
     Then my day dream was interrupted by voices. I looked out the window to see a small crowd of men approaching our home. They were dressed poorly, peasants most likely, then it came to me. There had been rumors going round about peasants storming noblemen houses and burning them and by the look of this group they ment business. They walked straight to the door and one of them kicked his foot out and it collided with the door sending it flying inward and I heard Mr. Zola start shouting. The men stormed in and I heard a choked scream come from Mr. Zola before a load thud. I heard the men storm through the house. There were crashes and shattering of glass. I heard the cellar door break as someone kicked it in too. I realized that this may be my only chance to escape. I started screaming and beating the floor of the attic. I kicked at the walls and screamed like I was a small child having a tantrum. I heard the voices below quiet some and then there were feet running up the stairs. The chain was pulled and the ladder to the attic dropped. To my great surprise my fathers head appeared and looked around.
" Father?" I questioned.
" My dear Abella. I would have never done it if I would have known this is were you would have ended up." He said hugging me tight.
     Even with those words my heart filled with anger. I did not wish to have the man that had sold me hug me so tight and try to make ammends with one sentence.  I pushed away from him and descended the ladder. The men below parted and I walked through them, my head held high. Out of the house I went and to the carpenters I walked. I knocked on the door and he answered. He looked at me for a moment before wrapping me in his arms and pulling me inside. Together we watched Mr. Zola's house burn and I was glad to watch it go.