Great Expectatrions

Great Expectations

It was a freezing cold winters evening and the sky was covered in thick grey clouds. It was an evening when nobody should be anywhere other than by a big warm fire, in the safe company of their families. But here I was, outside in the cold winter air and as I was still only a young boy this was certainly no place for me to be. I was standing, shivering in the middle of a dark, overgrown churchyard, which had been built next to a wide, murky river that was almost overflowing from the early winter showers. Even though I had long black, thick hair that covered half of my face revealing only one, dark tired looking eye and from small bit of my face you could tell that I was miserable.

I was the only one here, I wished that I didn’t have to be, but I was here because my parents were in front of me, buried six feet under the ground. I had never known them, they had died when I was only a few months old and I didn’t know what they looked like either since they had died before photos had been invented. I wish I had known them and that I had been able to enjoy a normal childhood…

I was now living with my sister and her husband in the village forge. Even though she was my sister she did not care for me very well. I was lonely, I was just beginning to dream of life with my parents and how much different it would have been for me, how much easier life would be, if my parents were alive, when suddenly I heard heavy foot steps moving quickly towards me. Before I had a chance to move or turn around, somebody appeared quickly from behind a tombstone and grabbed me firmly around my neck.

I was feeling so scared that I almost fainted but I forced myself to stay conscious. Judging by the size of the hands around my throat and the ease with which I was lifted from the ground, my attacker was obviously a man. He was holding me from behind me so I could not tell what he looked like but his hands were very rough and calloused and scratched my young skin. He brought with him a stench of body odour and smelled so bad he obviously not washed in at least a week or maybe longer.

He started to ask me questions in a strange accent, which made it almost impossible to understand what he was saying. His voice was loud and fierce and his words were almost spat from his mouth. I could just about understand his questions; I told him where I lived and whom I lived with, but only just as I was so scared that I could hardly talk myself.

I managed to tell him that I was an orphan and that I lived with my uncle who was a blacksmith. All of a sudden he released his vice like grip around my throat and I dropped to my feet but my freedom was short lived as he bent down and grabbed me by the ankles