Imperial: The Scroll

(Trying to write a novel based on Imperial Russia. Hope ya like it!)

Imperial
The Scroll

Chapter One:
It all started when Anya was walking down the street to her home in New York.
I was walking down 5th Avenue to my house. I held my books to my chest and brushed my hair out of my face. It was fall, and there was a cool, calming breeze. Anyways, my name is Anya Sarapo. Weird name, I know. Anya is just my nickname. My real name is Anastasia. My mom is Russian while my dad is Italian-American. Well, weird things have happened in my life. Really weird things….

Well, getting back to the story. I was walking down 5th Avenue, when someone pulled me into an alley. I closed my eyes then opened them. Of course, it was Nazareth, my best friend. Her long, silver-painted fingernails almost pierced my skin. “Hey Nazi,” I said. You may think it’s weird to call my friend Nazi, but she preferred that over Nazareth. Sometimes I call her Naza, but that’s not as easy to remember as Nazi. And the ironic thing is she’s Jewish. Her long, black hair covered her face. Nazi had the coolest, silver eyes that changed color according to her mood. I know freaky right?

“What’s up Anya, goin’ home?” Nazi had her backpack on and reached inside. She pulled out her phone and looked at the time. “You always come at this time,” she said. When she said this, I looked at her weirdly. I coughed a little. “Are you stalking me or something?” She smiled one of her seldom smiles. She doesn’t smile much. Her dad is real sweet and everything, but she doesn’t know her mom and her step-mom is a pain.

“Naw, I just do my research,” She said.

“You, researching?” That didn’t sound like something she’d do.

She swung her backpack around in front of her and started digging around in it. She found what she was looking for. “I’ve definitely been researching Imperial Russia.” She pulled out the thing she was looking for. It was a thick scroll with words written in Russian on the front. I looked carefully at it. The words read “Императорская Россия Выделите”. I read ‘em aloud: Imperatorskaya Rossiya Vydelite. I don’t know how I could read Russian, but somehow I knew that said Imperial Russia Scroll. “Nazi, where’d you get this from?” She smiled slyly. “Last year, when my dad and me went to Russia, I stole it out of the Heritage Museum at Winter Palace.” She laughed. I slapped her arm and she stopped. “Why would you do that?!” I took it out of her hands. I opened it and was surprised. It reached all the way to the ground and had all Imperial Russia’s history, even leading up to the last Tsar’s and his family’s assassination. One of his daughters’ name was Anastasia, like mine. Freaky.