Chapter 1

"Oh, since the revolution our lives have been so gray!

Thank goodness for the gossip that gets us through the day!

Hey!

Have you heard

There's a rumor in St. Petersburg?

Have you heard

What they're saying on the street?

Although the Czar did not survive,

One daughter may be still alive!

The Princess Anastasia!"

Some say at some point it can only be better. That it's hard to get any lower than hell. That's true, but even the rising up process takes time.

The good times have passed quickly, making one wonder if there ever was a day that could be called 'good'.

In Russia things clearly did not get any better after the revolution, even after years have passed.

On a cold Sunday a young woman was passing through the market in old and ragged clothes with a bag hanging over her shoulder. It was packed with hand-made scarfs and hats, gloves, handchriefs. After some searching she found her place to sell them, while eavesdropping every rumour that passed the mouths in the noisy market.

The most interesting she heared was about a Dimitri, who is trying to find the "real" Anastasia. From what she heared it seems that he even rents a place in the city to make a small theater like thing for the girls to perform as Grand Duchess Anastasia. Rumour says it's in the old, abandoned palace. Those who can afford it sneak in and laugh a good at all the fake princesses they see. One doesn't look like Anastasia, as if she got a new face. Another can't speak like one who belongs to the higher class, and another who seems to not understand what polite means. They say there was even an old woman who only tried to "convince" the audience was because said Dimitri promised money to the lucky, 'real' one.

All in all, the little "Anastasia theater" seemed a complete disaster. What looked like a promising oppurtinity at first quickly turned into a hopeless mess.

It's even rumoured that today or tomorrow Dimitri and his friend Vladi would close it due to its failure.

In the afternoon, when it seems that no more people want to buy her hand-made things she packs up and leaves the market.

In the meantime it started to snow. Our young woman kept going until she reached the end of the city. Not too far from there was an orphanage. A kind of nostalgic smile appeared on her lips. She spent a year or two there. She was around seventeen years old. A man in his thirties found her in the forest unconscious and badly injured. He brought her into the orphanage's small hospital. They took care of her here, and let her stay there for a few years. She still comes back sometimes either to help with warm clouds or money, or to stay a little when she has nowhere else to go, and sometimes, like now, to both help and stay a little. The man who saved her noticed her from the window and rushed outside to greet her.

They hug each other and then she gives him what was left from the hand-made warm clothes.

"Thank you, Anya! These will help a lot in a cold winter like this. Come in! The children were already missing you" He invited her.

A small smile appeared on Anya's face again at the thought of the children.

She stayed for the night. Helping around the orphanage, and making more scarfs and hats.

And the next day she left early in the morning to get back to the market in time.

On her way it started to snow again.

And it made her think a little about her life.

Since she was saved her memory seems to play tricks on her. Bringing back both beautiful and horrible, sometimes even painful memories. Not knowing which one is true she keeps going on the road back to her destination. That's what she always did: kept going. Never leaving the road, her path.

"Who knows where this road may go

Back to who I was,

On to find my future.

Things my heart still needs to know.

Yes, let this be a sign!

Let this road be mine!

Let it lead me to my past

And bring me home...

At last!"