A young maid stands near the door, watching as the two young duchesses, Anastasia and Maria, play with their new dolls. It is April, 1909 and the snow is finally melting, after almost seven months of murderous cold. “Maria!” Anastasia whines, “Why can’t I have that one?” She began tugging on the red-brown horse-hair braids of a certain blue-clad doll. “Anastasia--” the nurse intoned threateningly. “But Tyutcheva!” Anastasia cried. “No buts about it!” The nurse stated, and she promptly marched over and, taking hold of the doll yanked it away from Maria and Anastasia. “If you can’t share, then neither of you will play with it.” This received a pouty look from Anastasia and a sad glance from the shy Maria, but Tyutcheva ignored these, and put the play-thing on top of the grandfather cloak that stood in the corner of the room.
• • •
Amanda’s eyes flutter open. She lies in her bed, wondering what this dream meant. “Amanda honey? Are you awake?” her moms’ voice echoes slightly as it bounces from the kitchen and up the stairs. “Yeah,” Amanda coughs the sleepy fog out of her throat “I’m awake.” She can hear the soft footsteps of her mothers’ slippered feet as she makes her way up the stairs. She pokes her brown head of hair around the door. “You need to get up, or else you’ll miss the bus.” I glance at the clock; I have only ten minutes to get to my bus stop. Shoot. I struggle out of bed and slide on my clothes. It is going to be a long day.
• • •

“Maria!” I whine, “Why can’t I have that one?” I started to tug on the red-brown horse-hair braids of Annabelle, my favorite doll. “Anastasia--” Tyutcheva said threateningly. “But Nuh-Nuh!!!” “No buts about it!” She stated, and promptly marched over and, taking hold of the doll yanked it away from Maria and I. “If you can’t share, then neither of you will play with it.” Maria made a sad face at Tyutcheva, one that I know always works on Da, and I sat down and pouted. However, Tyutcheva ignored our reactions and put the doll on top of the grandfather cloak that stood in the corner of the play room. Then my day brightens: I hear the tinkling of the little bell that signals it is time for dinner. I leap up from my cross-legged position on the floor and race out the door. I assume the position on the banister and begin sliding backwards down to the first floor. When I reach the bottom I fly off and after a great heave and twist manage to land on my feet with only a little wobbling. I proudly march into the dining room where hear my parents talking about who-knows what. After a glance from my mother, she spells something out: C-O-N-S-P-I-R-A-C-Y. I wish that I was a big girl like Tatiana; they let her listen to them, and they don’t try to spell things out around her either. Hmph. A servant lays a silver tray onto the place in front of me, I wonder what we are going to have tonight? The servant reaches his gloved hand around me and grasps the handle of the lid. It raises up, dispelling a cloud of steam. I peer through it, and lo-and-behold, Roast Duckling!!
• • •
Amanda wakes, shivering uncontrollably. Duckling. Yuck. Rising out of bed, she walks over to the computer desk in the corner of her room. “I have to find out who this Anastasia is” She thought to herself. She pressed the power button and watched as the screen booted up with a whrrrr sound. She clicked the Internet tab, and started searching for anything she could find on the name Anastasia. Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia That looks promising she thought. This Grand duchess Anastasia Romanov person would have to be pretty rich to have a nanny AND a two story Bannister to slide down, not to mention having silver serving trays and servants to remove the lid for you . Duckling. Yuck. Clicking on it, she sees that it was a wiki article. “Maybe I should move on...” she thought, wiki articles are not generally materials to be trusted. But as she moved her mouse up to click the “back” button, something caught her eye. “Rumors of her possible escape have circulated since her death” Whoa, she thought. Escape? Like, she was killed? Reading on, she learned that Anastasia Romanov was killed when she was only 16 years old, along with her mother, father, younger brother, and two older sisters. The web page said that Anastasia's body was never found, neither was her younger brother Alexei, who had an incurable blood disease called hemophilia. “Well what happened to Anastasia?”
• • •
The Romanov family files into the barren room, potato sacks over their heads. “All right,” Lenin growled. “Backs to the wall!” The Romanov's stumbled blindly until their backs were pressed against the shabbily painted walls, peeling wall paper scratching the backs of their necks. ?? ?????! ??????????! ?????! (Ready! Set! Fire!). The sound of gun fire filled the room, paired with screams of terror and pain. One by one, the bodies of the Romanov family slumped to the floor, piling on top of each other, in an everlasting sleep. As the soldiers moved to dispose of the bodies, a young man named Fyodr spotted a slight movement in the body of Anastasia and watched as she began to gasp, quietly; making the fabric of the potato sack rise and fall.. “Hey guys!” He called out. the other soilders gathered around. “This one’s still alive!” they cheered. Two men grabbed her body, hauling her off the gound. they dragged her ffrom the barenroom, and carried her through the hallway. once they got outside, they threw her twitching body onto the prepared bonfire pile, the scream she made as she was impaled onto a sharp stick momentarily deafened the surrounding soldiers. The echoing sound of torture was quickly replaced by the crackling of flame on new wood, mingled with the sounds of cheers and obscenities coming from the surrounding crowd. Slowly, the girl in the fire became nothing more than ashes on the breeze.
• • •
“Oh my gosh” Amanda thought. “They—killed her.” She at at her computer, frozen in shock, at the story of a girl, who didn’t live to be Queen