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"Run!!!" She shouted to the boy in front of her. The boy who was now startled that she would scream at a time like this made his best effort to do what I thought was running. The women who shouted were older women about thirty or forty. She was caring a few bags filled to the brim with blankets, food, clothes, personal items, a small baby bag and a handful of family antiques. My bag wasn't nearly as full. I had my mother’s spyglass, a few of my father’s best bound books, a few personal items and of course the usual blankets, clothes and food. I hated being a woman or a young woman as my aunt put it, because not only was it a nascence but I happened at the worst times! Not to mention it tool up the most room in my bag which wasn't much bigger then a laundry bucket. I was running in a huge mob of people who were also running away from a burning village. I hated my life and this is why. My mother dies when I am only six years old and the best part is she committed suicide on my birthday just after she tucked me into bed.

Yes, guess how I felt that day, and from every other Birthday after that? Another thing I hate about my life is that as soon as my mother dies, my father thinks its wrong that I don't have a female role model in my life so what does he do he sends me to live with my aunt, my aunt who works at the village taverns to make a living and one who has had loose morals ever since she was a young girl. So, what do you think I would be doing? Do you think I would grow up to be a beautiful woman who becomes a great wife and has many children and makes a great and wonderful man happy? Or do I try and find a talent and run with the strolling players? No I am neither of these. Instead I become the village outcast. My school teacher and my classmates think I am a very unusual girl who has learned a little to much from my aunt, and they think the only reason that I am with her is because my father can't seem to hold a job.

The village priest thinks I am some sort of worshiper of the devil which isn't entirely his fault once I shouted a word I overheard on of the drunk men saying in the tavern and it was at the same time that our priest starting talking about the beauty and mercy of god. Great timing am I right? Well I tried to blame it on young age and stupidity, but that only worked for a few weeks until I started bleeding. At first I had angered god by saying a word like that but then when I told my aunt she said it was normal it was just a sign of growing up and that every women has it.

I wasn't severely punished because of my actions, but it was still
Frightening. "OWW!!!" I screamed as a horrified drunk stepped on my beautiful 15 year old foot. Yes I am still running for my life because when I made this fire I forgot to plan about the marketplace burning and of course the alcohol!! Oh, yes I started the fire but it wasn't entirely my fault. My father one late night came home with something I didn't expect. I knew he had been talking about it but I didn't think he would really try to find a wife. She was young and beautiful not to mention i'm sure she was as smart as the village pig. That’s how smart most women were these days, pigs! I can't remember how long I cried and how many different thoughts of anger and madness has wandered into my head but only one came out in actions. I was to set fire to my father’s farm. I was t to set the fire into the mill and it would slowly travel to the house and to the back yard by sun rise. But I set the fire in the wrong place and it burned a lot better on straw then it did with damp wood when I tried it the first few times.

"Ally! Oh, Ally thanks goodness I found you here let me take that and lets run over here for a minute and catch our breath okay?" My aunt asked. "Alright Laura" I replied with a tone of terror and now exhaustion. She took the bag from my shoulders and replaces it with a shawl. Night time was setting and soon our enemies would see the burning village and come after us. Our only hope was that we could make it to the forest by midnight. As I said before we were running for our lives.