هيدي من مقتطفات القصة بالانكليزي - معروض الكتاب بموقع أمازون...: والقصة تأليفي - قمت بتنقيحها ومراجعتها مرتين باللغة الانكليزية من أشخاص ماهرين باللغة والتدقيق :

Chapter 1
Deep in those dreary dense woods and desolate darkness of the night; where the mercy has died in deaf feelings, where there was no place for pity in hearts of the greedy, nor heard the call of entreaty.

Only the sound of the crime playing out the sin of weakness... There, in that forbidding, gloomy forest she was running barefoot. Her name was “Crystal”.

She fled fast and far away shivering and panting, looking behind her, frightened from what she had just seen while her brown wavy hair slapped her cheeks, and her heart beat a furious rhythm in her chest. Fallen twigs and dried leaves scratched her little feet as she hurried away, but she barely noticed or felt any pain. It was a miserable night! There was nothing to be heard, except the echo of her breathing, and the sizzle of branches which sway in that chilly evening air.

Wafts of her dark brown ringlets fell into her face as she sprinted, and her hands, smudged with dirt and tears, went to cover her pale blue eyes. “Run, Crystal, Run,” she whispered to herself. “Do not tell anybody what you saw.”
When she reached the manor, she went straight to her room. She was still trembling. Her tattered white dress clung to her sweaty, tired limbs.

“Is that you, useless girl?” Mrs. Hawkins shouted from the next room.
Crystal did not answer her, but wept quietly, sitting on the edge of her wrought-iron bed. Tears trickled down her face.
She was only nine years old. Her tiny, dank bedroom was her only sanctuary; her thin, threadbare pillow the only friend she had in the world. She had no dolls, no toys.
Mrs. Hawkins flung open the bedroom door, glaring at Crystal with furious, narrowed blue eyes. Her tangled brown hair threatened to spill out of her cap and her apron stretched across her corpulent frame as she shook her fist at Crystal. She was the house cook and Crystal, her unfortunate helper.


“Where is your father, that drunk old man?” she demanded to know. “I am sick of you both! Lazy, foolish layabouts!”
“I…I do not know,” Crystal quietly stammered.
She marched across the room and caught hold of Crystal’s dress. “Do not think you will go to sleep without washing the dishes and mopping the kitchen floor!”

“But I am so tired, Mrs. Hawkins,” Crystal pleaded. “I promise I will do it tomorrow morning. Please let me sleep.”