Whoa. It's been ages since I last posted here... Grrrr. This place is kinda dead, but it's okay. Doesn't make much difference to me. Yeehaaaaw. *Talking to myself* like Ec said. Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll just post and babble on and on. Feel free to pick on me, dissect me or ignore me.
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Prologue
Everyone called her ‘the Irish’. Her life was the adventure many saw only in films, but a few were able to live it. Her fortune was a poor child’s dream, but she made it reality. The route of her fate drew many in, crossing and overlapping most, yet she felt all alone. She outran her destiny, and heaven and hell were only one step away. She had not known which way she would go.
‘Lighter than a feather… Lighter than a feather…’ the Irish whispered in the dark.
The head mistress of the orphanage once told her an ancient story. When the Judgment Day came, everyone’s heart would be weighed on a scale. And if it were lighter than a feather, they would be allowed to go to heaven.
She looked down at her bruised, scraped, blood-soaked hands. Brutally stained. Forever tainted. Fists clenched, she smiled as rage began to surge in and swallow her whole. She couldn’t tell whether it was her own blood or her enemies’. She didn’t know who was who anymore. She knew only one thing. Right now. She would tear the gates through. She would raise hell and brought heaven to its knee. Nothing was above her.
“Nothing is above me… But there can be no heaven without you…” Volkova whispered the last line of the last page of the journal as if the author were whispering the words to her.
Watching the water in her blue eyes, I could feel her stony heart shaken with anger, her brave soul warring with sorrow.