What life gives, death takes and what death takes, happens to mean the most to us. When it takes what means the most, it changes things, it changes people. That's how the devil finds ways to kill your happiness the moment you give birth to it. It's like the sun: when the light fades, darkness creeps up and takes what's left. Can you hear that whisper? Can you hear that beautiful rhapsody? There's a snow-filled ballroom in the evening sky, where two angels dance around under a million burning suns, one sad and one happy but they synchronize in the most beautiful way possible without so much so as a single touch to the other's wing or hands or face. But then the piano slows down and the violins start to cry and the angels leave each other's side, for the only time they dance is when the morning greets the night and when the night greets the sunset of red, blue, and yellow lights. It's that bittersweet feeling on the tongue when you're happy and then sad, just one second later. It's the feeling you get when you don't know whether your tears are of joy or you're just weeping.

It was an ordinary day. A normal day for Lily Fisher as she made her way along the market street. She looked at the pumpkins, the cherries then the apples and blueberries. She waved to the old lady by the corner, who owned the bakery that always caused her to stop and smell the goodies. She stopped and indeed she smelt them. What did Miss Cambelle make today?- On her way back she’d pick up some pastries for her father at home but first she needed to get the beans for her soup so she continued up the road, in her blue and white checkered frock, her mittens and her forest green coat.

“Bonjour, mon cher.”

“Bonjour.” She dropped to her knees and held her skirt before having a laugh with old Mister Stalker.

“What can me get cha’, Miss Fisher?”

“Beans.”

“Magic beans?”

“Red and Black-eyed, Please.” She gave a laugh after the statement.

“Next time you know the word, say it. Me don’t sell rice or crops, me sell beans, hear?”

“Heard.” The girl nodded before tilting her head to steal a glance through the window, just behind the man’s grayed head. “Is she any better?”

“No, me dear. I’m afraid not. She’s been coughin’ all mornin’.”

“I’ll take a minute to see her… if that’s okay?” She then smiled, taking the bag and paying the usual two gold ones.

“Go’on. She’ll love to see ya’. Just don’t tell ‘er anything upsettin’.”

“Of course not.” Lily quickly shoved the bag into the sack at the side of her waist before going through the side alley of the house and entering the back. With the ring of the bell, Mr. Stalker shouts to the girl on the bed. “That be, Lily.”

She kept her head low so as not to hit the bars, she then got to a small bed in the corner of the room where bags and bags of beans were tied off but at the other end was nested a little stove next to a bed.

“I’ll fix it up.” She said softly, grabbing some wood from beside it.

“Please don’t, Lily. I’m fine.” A softer voice insisted before springing up only to be left in groans, Lily instantly reached her side. “Oh, you mustn’t. You need your sleep, Bella.” She rubbed the back of her hand, gently against the girl’s rosy cheek.

“You’re being a mother again. Please tell me you brought something, a bottle of liquor maybe.” Bella’s eyes closed. Lily could tell that her hand was anything but better and this was evident in the way they held hands.

“Oh, Isobel.” She started to scold her. “The only thing I brought with me is hope.” She pressed the girl’s hand against her own chest and started mumbling to herself.

Isobel turned her head away. “Praying is for the weak.” She snickered.

Lily opened her eyes, staring at her before placing them back down. “I know.”

Isobel was the girl that had what every girl wanted. She had a thin frame, her hair was of the darkest color; black, her skin held the brightest of whites, her lips were plump and red and this was all before she got sick. Now she looked like she was in her forties, like she hadn’t slept for months and maybe she didn’t. The pain was excruciating but she had gotten used to it, that’s what hurt Lily the most. The fact that Isobel could say she had gotten used to it.

The girls grew up together but this did not affect their personalities. Lily and Isobel were like a fish and a dog, so different. So different. Lily grew up a saint, and Isobel… well, a sinner. This has never kept Lily from loving her friend, she loved her and she prayed for her, every day along with her father.

Lily was termed ordinary by people compared to Isobel, she wasn’t “that pretty” people would say; she had her father’s long nose, and his golden hair but Lily’s hair always got tangled as it was filled with curls that lengthened to her buttocks. She did, however, have her mother’s emerald eyes and tan brown skin.

Lily waited until Isobel was fast asleep before she left.

On her way back home, she was hit with that scrumptious scent from the bakery so she made sure to give in to their devious intentions. And Oh! Everything looked wonderful, so wonderful that their smell did not lie one bit. She pressed one hand on the glass and the other up to her lip.

“What’ll it be, Miss?”

She glanced up to the boy.

“I can’t decide.” Her eyes brightened every time she caught a glimpse of another. The puffs made her mouth water the most. They were perfectly round and the melted butter was a sign that they were still hot and their color held a sun-kissed brown. Lily thought about it, what it would feel like to bite into it. She could already hear the crunching of the crust and feel the softness of the inside as it melts in her mouth.

She couldn’t decide but seeing her face when she looked at that specific pastry, he knew exactly which one she wanted.

“How many?”

“Oh, just two please.” She slapped her lips together.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

After the bakery, Lily was home. She pushed open the door with a sigh and dropped her coat and shoes off at the door, she went for the kitchen. The girl began her normal routine, washing the vegetables for a minute before leaving them in a bowl. To her somber notice, the house was quiet. Was her dad not home? She was usually greeted with the sound of the boxed television or radio but none seemed to be alive.

“Father?” She called out. “Father?” Even louder.

She took a few steps toward the living area. There, she saw what was catastrophic; everything was scattered and ransacked. How could she not notice when she first walked in? Where could he be? He never leaves the house. Never.

"Dad?!" She yelled, running to the kitchen. He never left the house. How could he?-She thought as she ran upstairs looking around, the whole house looked like a tornado came for lunch. She didn't know where to look. She scurried to the barn thinking her father would be there, tending to the goats or the cows but when she unbolted the door with a quick warp, it was just the animals. They made pleasing sounds, excited to see Lily but she was more fixated on something else, someone else.

Staggering downhill, she hoped to see some sign that her father used the road but nothing was viable in her quest for clues. She reached the square once more. People stared, thinking she had just gone left or a screw came loose. She ran around in circles, asking anyone that knew her or was nice enough to hear her plea. She didn't understand it, all her life he never left her side. She knew something was wrong. Her eyes danced around as she held her hair almost as if to scream bloody murder. Then there came a man clip-clopping through a nearby passage, she rushed over holding onto his leg.

"Please help me find my father. He, he has long brown hair up to his neck, darker than mine and a big beard." The uniformed man watched her green eyes shed tears as she jabbered, looking around with sweaty palms. "I can't find him, I can't. I need to find him."

He assured her. "Miss, are you sure he didn't go out by himself?" He said, seizing the horse from its bolting movements.

"No, no, you don't understand, he, he can't walk. It's his legs, you see." She cried. "Where is he?" She begged, looking to the sky.

The officer recalled an incident earlier that day, it was a gruesome thing really. He didn't want to alert Lily if he wasn't sure but the victim sounded so much like the description Lily gave that he had to take her to the hospital. She felt light-headed when he explained that there was an accident just outside of town and by the time the eye-witness took him to the scene, the man had died. He told her there was a possibility that it wasn't her father and in seeing that she could have a little more peace of mind. He advised her to hope for the best but to expect the worst.

The doctor who still tried to save him and the officer who found him, both were her entourage to the coldest room in the building. It was at the back, at the end of the road it seemed. It was like she was falling into a deep hole of thoughts, she wanted so badly for it not to be him but the odds were against her. This time, it could be him- She hated that she already said he was dead, feeling guilty for even considering it.

The door had finally been opened, she could smell them. All of them. It made her stomach turn. It didn’t sink in yet; she refused to believe it until she saw him if it was him. What her eyes saw, her brain couldn't comprehend. She looked at the long lines of covered corpses and the small bells on their toes. She wondered if her father was in here, maybe… maybe his bell would jingle before he went under.

“Is this him?” He questioned, lifting the white sheet.

Lily felt a hard lump in her throat that she tried her best to get rid of. She blinked a few times and nodded her head. “Yes, that’s…it’s my father.”

She couldn’t recognize him, his face had been sunk in and she knew that meant a cracked skull but still she knew, she knew it was her father. He had broken fingers and a broken arm. She watched him from head to toe, naked as he was. He had the thinnest bones for feet but that was normal. She didn’t know if he died with his eyes lit or with them filled with terror. She wondered who could do such a thing… He was selfless and this was what he got from it. Lily knew that her father’s death wasn’t an accident and she was going to uncover the truth, even if it meant sacrificing her entire life or putting it on hold. She had to face it, he was dead. She hadn’t the words to express herself. Is this it? This was how he was taken away from her. What’s left now? Lily felt the slightest shock from her spine down. Before she knew it, she’d collapsed where she stood, collapsed and blacked out. Where would her mind take her now? How could she save herself from herself?

When Lily opened her drained eyes, the sun was nearly asleep; the nurses’ voices could be heard just beyond the curtain, seeing patients. She felt something, she felt sad but she didn’t know why. Why? Why was Lily sad? She’d just recalled the last few hours; her father was dead, someone killed him.

Someone killed him. Was all that ran through her mind. He’s gone.

The tight grip on the bed was a sure sign she didn’t wake from the nightmare, she was now living in it. She wiggled her toes to feel for the ground but when she couldn’t, she pushed herself down onto the floor. After fastening her shoes, Lily slipped her coat on and trembled as she ran the drapes to one side.

The Fisher house would be as good as empty; Lily didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t bear seeing what was left there. She needed someplace to stay, to be. Her aunt had already sold her house in the village and was halfway around the world.

“Ma’am? Are you feeling better?” said a nurse.

No. I don’t think I’ll ever feel better Was what she wanted to say but Lily nodded as she walked out of the room and into the hall. It seemed like a long, long walk. The corridor had stretched three times what it was when she came in. It could be because she was in a rush to see her father but now she was hesitant to leave the building, hesitant on what her next move was going to be.

Lily Fisher, everyone seemed to have her but who did she have? Who could she turn to?

The town’s square was nearly empty by now and the poor orphan was left in the middle of it. The place seemed like a maze, she didn’t know which way was the right way, which way would led her to the light, and which way she could find redemption.

Within a couple of seconds, within the blink of her eyes, she found herself at the doorsteps of the Stalker house. She lifted her hands for a knock but pulled them away and held them to her chest. It was late, how could she bother them with her worries when they have worries of their own? It wasn’t right. What could Mr. Stalker do for her? What could Isobel do for her in the state that she was in? It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t right; Lily turned to leave when the door creaked open.

“Lily, that be you?” Mr. Stalker squinted his eyes in the darkness. With his candle, He could barely make out her golden hair that shone in the moonlight.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“What brings you bout this hour, me dear?” He hovered his hand over the flame before turning back inside. He didn’t wait for an answer but instead said. “Come in.” And she did.

After being seated, Stalker resided beside her. He noticed her weary eyes, her near-to-death colored skin, and the droopiness of her stance when she was at the door.

“What be the matter? And why’d ya’ leave poor Fullin home alone?” He questioned, rolling up his nightgown’s sleeve to scratch his arm.

“Isobel’s asleep; she seemed much better after you left.” He slapped his lips before saying. “All me do for her and she doesn’t move an inch. You come then she wants to start cookin’.” He chuckled.

“Oh for Pete’s sake… What’s buggin’ ya’, Lily girl?” He folded his arms as he said in a heavy voice.

She slowly wobbled her head, glaring at him.

“Someone killed my father.”

“What?” He sat up, brows up. He was shocked at this information that had been given. “You mean, Mr. Fullin’s…” He held the hairs on his head.

“Dead.” She replied coldly. “He’s dead.”