Mary Clare

It's midnight and my mind is drawing a blank. A rush of tiredness comes over me as I enter my small courters. The sound of music still fills the down stairs, keeping a steady happy beat of restlessness. My feet are sore from the past six hours of lively dancing, music, and all just plane fun. Yet four straits nights of  parties has left me tired. My room felt cosy. The maids had left a small fire burning in the corner of the room. The soft pink bead was made perfectly, in an army style fashion.  I closed, and locked the door's, stuffing a sheet in the cracks, hoping to keep out the light and music. I got into the bead, and listened to the crackling of the fire.  A quick thought went over me in my next attack. I shook it away. "I am a lady," I said to my self. "I am to be polite and helpless." Yet I could not help to think that that is what I am suppose to be. For I am more than what meets the eye. I did my best to stop all thoughts, and just listen to the howling of the wind outside. I slowly drifted to sleep, with the thought on my mind, "what is my next move?" And as all this happen'd, I stared at the black cape, and clothing sitting in the door of my closet, as if a person was watching me in my last minuets before sleep.