Who Am I From Les Miserables Novels & Stories

He squinted at me and shrugged. “I forgot to ask; where are you from, you don’t look like an American” he stated, he really guess right “I’m from Africa, Briland City” I stated, he smiled “Wow…Africa…you remind me of someone…someone really dared to me” he whispered the last part, but I heard him clearly. I bowed and left when I noticed he had nothing to say. He seems nice, unlike his proud daughter. I wonder where he got her from. ~~~~~

He was more than a sexy voice and a hot fantasy now, and that was his fault for showing up uninvited. “The accent? My maman is from the Louisiana bayou. That’s where I grew up.” “And now you’re out here, working with the Big Bear Rogues.” He shrugged, assembling his burger on his plate. “I go home in the off- season. I have a place out on the bayou.” “Like actually out out on the bayou?”

All I know is that it’s enough to make my brain and my mouth to work. “Please, let me explain,” I say quickly as he opens his mouth to speak again. “I’m not a bad person. I really don’t know where I am. I didn’t know this was your land. I didn’t know it was owned by anybody! Please, sir, I’m from the Capital. I ran away from the Nobleman I was serving since I was a child. I just rode a random carriage out of the state and wound up here. I have been wandering for days and I have no idea. I’m just a servant, sir, please have mercy on me. . . .”

Maybe tell you a little about myself too… Paris is easily one of the most beautiful cities in the world, so they tell me, but it is hard to say it as a Frenchman myself, especially as one born in the densest slums of Paris, where the eyes refuse to see and the air stinks of rot and every shadow hides a blade. It was where I realised that watching my father, Édouard Moreau, was my first lesson, and it showed me how life chewed up hope between those rugged, closely packed houses we lived in.

replied Anna Marie as she arranged the rose stems one by one, being careful not to let the petals fall off. JC replied, "I'm originally from Texas. However, I'm an orphan. The government put me in an orphanage in LA since my parents died. It's a long story, maybe next time I'll tell you, Anna." "Oohh... I'm sorry, for making you remember the bad times. JC, you remember your childhood!" cried Anna Marie in astonishment. Not only, Anna Marie who was surprised, but JC was also surprised by that fact. He seemed to feel that it was something he usually answered when someone asked him where he was from. However, the rest he felt unable to remember.

, she comments with humor. “ Nice to meet you, Larissa!” “Pleased to meet you, Chloé!” She comes closer, so I can get a better look at her face. She is young, with curly hair and light skin. “ Did you lose? Lost how?” “I am looking for a house, but I find it hard to be around here, only if I were rich.” We both fall into laughter “ New to Paris?” “ Oui, I arrived yesterday. My mother was French and with her death, I decided to return to my origins. But, everything is so difficult…”

she stops, "You think you're not good enough for me?" "Ah... it's just... I'm the head of the Union Corse, and you're the girl I kidnapped." "Where's this coming from?" she asks, actually blown away. My shoulders sag, "I come from a family of criminals, and I have nothing to offer you. I'm just... me."

She asked me. "I'm from Lalusha, it's a small village just out of Salem..." I said. "Wow, what are the odds? My great grandfather is from there, so you're a witch-wolf." She asked me. "Yes I am." I said proudly. "Hmm I never thought I could meet one." She said and we made our way to the bedroom. ee

Evelina's POV “Hey!” I exclaimed, turning to yell at the man who’d just groped my ass in the subway. Fuc.king New York. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. “You pervert!” I yelled, watching the strange man disappear into the crowd. “Temper Evie,” Robert intoned, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. “It’s late, we need to get home.” Muttering expletives in Spanish that Robert couldn’t understand, I trudged along begrudgingly. My mama was Peruvian and my biological papa was from Mexico. So of course, I was putting my knowledge of various curse words to good use.

She stepped off the train and felt the weight of it this place that had created her, broken her, and taught her that love was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The taxi driver didn’t ask questions when she gave him the address. That was Marseille. That was a port city where people had reasons for going to places they didn’t want to remember. The warehouse was exactly as she remembered it. Industrial. Collapsing. The kind of building that looked like it was held together by rust and spite. The windows were broken. The doors hung open like a mouth mid scream. She got out of the taxi four blocks away and walked the rest.