Blood and Water

"You and I are as strong as Blood. He is no more placid than water to me." Analissa is betrothed to a man she meets only on the day of the weddding. She is deeply in love with her childhood sweetheart, Zechariah. He is everything she wants in life. Zechariah is a baker's assistant- he is different and everything he does is never the same. He's perfect for her. Or is he really? Zechariah is blood to her, He is protective, kind and gentle and he is what she believes keeps her going, her will to live. Henry Di Machavich is an earl, with power and enough money to support Analisa and her family for life. Analisa seeks to see no deeper than his looks and careful facade. Henry is Water to her. She sees him as see-through, outstandingly emotionless and unbalanced. He fell in love with Analissa's charm, beauty and fire. He wants her to take a chance with him. He will do anything to gain her love. Will Analissa choose Blood? Or will she choose Water?

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1. The Gypsy

AN: Hi, Guys! I hope you like my story. I'm not really sure if I should continue or not. Comment/Vote if you think I should continue. Thanks. Read, Review and Love! xoxox Thea

 

I have bad blood with fortune tellers. They always seem to set their colorful stalls next to my Mother's stall, where she sells baked goods.

Today, a beautiful woman sits behind the stalls. She has black hair with beautiful gold hoops in her painstakingly peirced ears.

As I pass by, she gives me an alluring smile, calling me closer with her golden brown eyes.

I looked away from her smile, sticking my nose in the air. I tried to listen to my Mother ramble as she chatted iddly. She was selling a blueberry pie to Mrs. Aldura.

She was an elderly woman who ran a flower ship a mile or so away, near the heart of town. Her flowers were always fresh and smelled sweeter than honey.

"Good day, Mrs. Aldura" I said politely, dipping my head. Mrs. Aldura smiled at me, her eyes wrinkling like my Grandmother's eyes did. But Mrs. Aldura was much kinder than my Grandmother.

Mrs. Aldura patted my hand and left, parting with a withered kiss to my Mother's cheek. I checked at the Gypsy's stall, glancing behind mu shoulder, hiding behind my thick curls.

Oh, Analissa!" Mother chided me. "Go to her stall if she's bothering you all that much." My Mother scolded me, and shooed me out of the protection of her stall.

 

"No, No, Momma, I promised to help today." I protested, scowling. Mother smiled, pushing me closer to the Gypsy.

 

"You will help me. But later in time. Now you must go. Grandmother will surely have arised soon." she shooed me.

I frowned, giving in. Grandmother hated Gypsy's more than anything. She believed they were a temptation, worse than atheists and Jews.

 

"G-good day" I greeted, quivering. The Gypsy smiled again, her eyes narrowed, full of mirth. As she stood, with an outstretched hand, bizarre coins danced around a sash on her hip, clinking togethor musically.

"Come closer, m'dear" She beckoned me.

 

"Let me read you" she requested. I nodded mutely, letting her grasp my hand and pull me into the seat across from her, hidden covertly under the cover of her tent. I swooped my skirt out around me, wincing as my corset dug into my hip, preventing me from slouching as I would like. The cursed thing.

 

"You are nervous." the Gypsy observered. I nodded. It was true. I was nervous. I had many reasons to wish my future a secret. I wished to run and to hide, but I couldn't. I didn't dare move.

"Turn over your palm" She instructed, moving her black silk hair over her shoulder. I pulled my hand grom her grasp and layed it palm down on the table defiantly.

"Why?" I dared to ask.

The Gypsy smirked and held out her hand. "Everyone's palm, your Mother's palm and even your Grandmother's palm, hold a peice of each of your own fate" she told me. She traced the lines and curves of her palm with her sharp nail and I winced glancing at my own ragged nails, bit to ruins

 

"My fate?" I echoed.

 

The Gypsy nodded, "Fate."

 

I shivered, but not from the chill. There was an unknown fire In my belly, rumbling at the though of the unkwon and such a pleasing word-Fate. I held out my palm without hesitation when she asked again.

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