The First Lady

• Josephine Dunn, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2016

“Lady Lorraine, how are you enjoying supper?” Lorraine looked up from the silver plate covered in gourmet food and to the king. “Yes, it is quite pleasing. Thank you for inviting me to join you,” her British accent flowed from her lips like a silver thread as she spoke her reply. “Well, it has been quite lonely here with the Queen gone,” the King replied sadly. Suddenly Lorraine felt as if a jack hammer was striking her head repeatedly; she began to sway in her seat. “Lady Lorraine are you alright?” the King’s voice was distant and she could only just make out what he said through the pounding in her head. “Lady Lorraine you look awfully pale. Butler, please escort Lady Lorraine to the Queen’s ensuite.” Lorraine barely had time to protest before the butler had taken her by the arm and led her out of the royal dining hall. In the split second before the large entrance doors slammed shut, Lorraine looked back only to see the King looking at her with a sinful smirk.
The sound of glass shattering awoke Lorraine from her peaceful slumber. Sluggishly she lifted her tired body from the silk covered mattress and looked over to the balcony expecting to see the elegant glass doors, only to see glass broken and smashed across the marble tiles. A scream barely passed her lips before a hand shot up from under her bed and a rugged cloth was placed over her mouth. A chemical scent passed through her nostrils and she fell back into her deep slumber.
Lorraine felt as if her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds but somehow she still managed to pry them open. Slowly she allowed her eyes to wander around the unfamiliar room. She looked from the small barricaded window to the thick metal bars caging her in, she soon came to the conclusion that she was in a cell. But where? That was the question that stuck out like a blue thumb. Gathering her mind, Lorraine closed her eyes and began to listen. Waves. She could hear waves smashing against the wooden wall she rested against. That was the first thing she heard, she was on a ship. First she believed that she was on one of the palace ships, but no palace ship had mouldy, wooden flooring and barricaded windows. “Ah! You are awake,” a thunderous voice broke Lorraine from her thoughts on her whereabouts. Timidly she looked up to see a monstrous man standing outside of her cell, she looked right into his dark brown, almost black eye. Eye, this scary man only had one eye, the place on the right side of his face where his eye was originally, had a large scar running from his forehead to his jaw. Slowly her eyes ran down his body, taking in the rugged clothes and unpleasant scars covering his sun kissed skin. Lorraine suddenly came to realisation on where she was. “Pirate,” she hissed.