söndag 27 april 2014

Anastasias Destiny

Here is the sample of Kim M. Kimselius new book about the Grand Duchess, Anastasia!

"She sat hidden behind a dresser and peeked out at those who inspected the tsarist family's furniture that would soon be auctioned.

She had to swallow the lump grew in her throat, when the memories come to her. She remembered her father, so proud and straight, unyielding, unable to be broken, she had all the same thought, but fate wanted otherwise.

Her dear mother, so beautiful. Now she was considerably older than her mother had become.

The siblings, the dear and sickly brother, there loved dogs.

Now they were all long gone. Fate had been cruel, formed them to a life in which they never would live.
People touch the table's shiny surface, felt the silk fabric on the sofa and armchairs, the audited, criticized and brought accolades. She saw and felt annoyance, longing, sadness and anticipation.

Tensely awaited her on the right people, while she let the thoughts go.

Imagine how much speculation there had been about the imperial family's fate, especially of Anastasia's fate. Many had claimed to be the surviving Grand Duchess Anastasia. She thought of Anna Andersson, who had claimed that she was the missing Grand Duchess.

Why would anyone want to claim the title? It was risking there own life. Now, if they had made such great pains to escape from death, why did they then reveal their identity?

It was something she could not possibly understand.

She had been hiding during all the decades, followed all the discussions, smiled at all the fake versions of the Grand Duchess who did everything to get over the tsarist family fortune, the one that no longer existed.
Anna Andersson was the one who was most like her aunt, whom many had long thought was the real Anastasia. She sighed at how gullible people could be. Although she and her family had allowed themselves to be fooled once for a very long time ago.

She was tired, she had lived too long, seen too much, seen untold suffering and death.
Her veined old hands trembled as she rolled the chair forward to get a better overview of the premises. She had seen a familiar figure enter the room.

The heart began to throb like a teenage heart, so that it once had done when she first had seen the young man. She had waited and longed to meet him again.

Now he stood before her, as vibrant as last, although it differed oceans of years between them.
The wrinkled old cheeks were slightly pink and her eyes filled with tears, as she thought of all she had been able to experience, all she had missed out on, all the loved ones who had died.

He was accompanied by the girl he had talked so much about. They smiled at each other, which made her both excited and happy.

When he sat down on the couch, stroking the silk and put his hand on the wood bud, and in the next second, disappear, it became too much for her.

She knew what he would experience, she had been there, she was part of the young man's story. The memories poured over her and they hurt. So evil that the heart cramped and stopped beating.

The old lady sank down into the chair and her hand slid an envelope on which was written to Theo Aurelius ...."

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