"Mommy Look!" Yelled A young girl. "A dancer?" The mother looked to me as they walked. It was the average day in London England. Tourists come, yet they don't believe in true Gypsies anyway.

I wore a black strapless top. A dress sash with silver beads and coins on its seams, a blood red. An a maroon frilled dress. That move with me so perfectly. I also had silver bracelets on my ankles and wrists. For a flare in my performance I catch my dress on fire and underneath is black skinny leather pants.

My dress was fine, its just show,

Many throw money into the cap that laid on my feet as sweat fell from my dark skin. I quickly wipe my forehead without making it seem obvious, a black bandana on my left wrist, to cover the Court of Miracles birth mark.

Very unpopular, very unwanted.

"Hey Gypsy!" Yelled the yard.

They charge the stage and wrestle me to the ground, I however was ready for this. The people looking frightened and angry.

The people had taken the money I earned, the police handcuffing me. I head bash the two cops and jump. Throwing my arms on a pole, breaking the chains. I grab a red gas vial and throw it onto the ground. It covering my escape route.

"Damn Gypsy, We shouldn't even give her a chance to live. She's nothing but back luck. Next time we'll kill her. Damn witch!"

As I walked through the catacombs I think of who I was, who I'm meant to be.

I'm Esmeralda the Third, I'm 19 years old. I'm a Gypsy. The last full blood Gypsy.

The year is 1992, you'd figure this all would be over. Considering it's been going on since the 1600's.

Another Day without bread.

After the Death of Judge Claude Frollo, all gypsies were ordered to be killed. The rest of my story is all a blur. I remember nothing but a pair of red eyes looking to me with sorrow. An him saying my name.

My great great grandmother, my name sake I should say was rumored to be a witch, forced into a convent with a devil's child. She was then burned to a stake. Does the story The Hunchback of Notre Dame sound familiar?  The story Disney told was all a Lie. My grandmother dies. Quasimodo then leaves the bell tower after his master's death and crawls into her grave and cries till his death. Not a bad story huh?

I take my hair and undo it from its braid. Raven black locks fall to my hips.