• Her eyes opened, this time it was not raining. In fact, it was sunny outside her, now open, hangings. There was a woman standing beside them, wearing the uniform of a maid and an assured smile on her face. She seemed cheery, but then she seemed saddened. She didn't bother to ask and slowly draped the covers over her face. She hadn't got any sleep ever since the dream had first started.
    "Ms. Tucker?" the flowery voice called out from the corner. The girl under the covers didn't answer. "Ms Tucker, it's time to wake." Once again, she didn't answer, or respond in any way. "Ms. Tucker please wake. Your mistress will be angry with me if I let you sleep too long. Please wake." A long, drawn out sigh came from under the covers and it slowly receded to show her face.
    "I'm awake." she breathed. She slowly pushed the covers from her body and sat on the edge of the bed. Almost like déjà vu', the back of her eyes began to throb in pain. The palms of her hands went to them and quickly covered them until the pain ceased.
    "Are you okay Ms. Tucker?" the flowery maid asked as she stepped forward putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. She waited for a while before answering, keeping her palms over her eyes until the pain was gone completely.
    "I'm fine." The flowery maid slowly backed away and then nodded. Giving her one last look, she exited the room for her to get dressed. She rose from the bed and went to the large window that overlooked the street. She peered from it, her hands resting on the hangings in an attempt to close them. This time, however, she didn't see a blackened figure, but there was a large black horse pulling a long a black carriage.
    The carriage slowed to a stop just before the edge of her house. She kept an eye on it out of curiosity and watched as two men exited it, both wearing expensive clothing. One was tall with creamy colored skin and very dark eyes and short brown hair. He wasn’t pale though, his skin was darker than creamy, but still creamy. She couldn't describe it, although he was extremely gorgeous. His features were somewhat that of gods. His cheek bones stood perfect on his face, not too high and not too low. His smile left perfect dimples in the center of his cheeks, but his eyes were just screaming romantics. The other man, however, differed from him, as well as everyone else for that matter. He was just as tall as the first, but more brooding. He seemed tense, scared even.
    His skin was that of cinnamon, his long black hair drifted down past his shoulders, with a sleek shine to it from the morning shine. His features were similar to the first, but much softer, more loving. He was gorgeous, but a man of his stature would be treated as an interesting foreigner, as he was. His eyes of soft gray, which were unusual for a person in general, glided over to her window, meeting her gaze. Blue eyes met gray in a straight line. The first men to come out of the carriage made him break contact first, griping his shoulder and leaning against him.
    They exchanged few words and the dark-skinned man left, leaving the first man by himself, only he followed the other man's line of sight and spotted her in the window. He did nothing however, not even a smile, as he walked away after the other man. She watched the man as he left, his gaze still lingering in her eyes taking her breath away. She couldn't get rid of the picture of those darkened, soulless eyes.
    "Lily." She turned quickly from the window to see her stepmother in her doorway, eyeing her as if she were trying to sneak out. "What are you doing?" Lily opened her mouth to speak, but no words found their way up her throat and to her mouth. She turned back to the window to see if anyone was still there, no one was there; even the carriage was gone from sight. She turned back to her step mother with a blank expression. "Please hurry and get dressed. Your father cannot wait any longer dear." Lily gave the window one last look before turning back to her step-mother and nodding.

    Lily was a rather quick dresser, no matter how hard she tried to slow down. It seemed to be taken rather on impulse, rather than expectancy. Before she knew it, she was downstairs in front of her step-mother, straightening her dress. Elaina, her real mother, stood in the background watching her ex-husband’s wife fix her daughter. She watched with a disgusted look upon her face, wishing that that could be her.
    Lily and her mother had certain similarities that caused them to be beautiful in appearance, and attitude. Although Lily’s father had dark brown hair, Lily took the color of her mother’s hair. A thick wavy ocean of deep red hair that drifted down her shoulders to her upper back. They both were not too tall, but not too short either standing at about an even five foot two. Yet still, Lily differed from her mother.
    As a girl, Lily was bold and adventurous, finding fun in everything she did. But, being a girl, she had limits to which she could have fun. And like all children, she was not allowed to stay out after the sun set and never go near the graveyard. While Lily’s mother was able to, she never went near the graveyard. Elaina was adventurous, but not as much as her daughter. She found her own adventures written in books and stories. She wasn’t allowed to make her own.
    Elaina stood there, her arms folded over her chest, watching. “Let her finish it herself Vivian.” Elaina said from the doorway. “She’s almost nineteen, she can dress herself.” Vivian shot Elaina a nasty glance, but didn’t say a word. She knew the only reason why Elaina was still in the house, as did Lily. Vivian finished, patting Lily’s shoulders.
    “There.” She took a step back to look at her. “You look radiant.” Vivian put her hands to her breast and took a few short intakes of breath.
    Lily felt like an idiot.
    “I must be going. Can’t keep father waiting forever, can I?” Lily gave a weak smile and glanced at her mother, her eyes pleading. She really felt stupid wearing a dress like that, but she couldn’t go against her father’s wife. Elaina went over to her and gently kissed her cheek for luck. There was nothing more she could do at the moment, except walk her to the doorway and wave as Lily left for her father, who went to get their carriage.
    Lily felt relieved to leave the house, not wanting to stand the embarrassment anymore. Unlike most girls, Lily liked to wear dresses, but not ones as fluffy and frilly as one she was now. But rather, straight, bold ones. Ones that would make her stand out, yet not at the same time. She was a confusing girl. She liked one dress in particular. She never wore it though. It was hanging in her wardrobe, in the back of it, waiting for her. Her mother had sewn it for her eighteenth birthday. Seeing that she was only seventeen, she had no right to wear it, maybe not even touch it. She could only imagine how it looked on her. Imagine the feel of the fabric on her skin when she would first slid it on. She pictured the scene in which she would wear it. Of course it would be on her birthday, but the place and time in which fashion she would wear it.
    She curtsied to her shadow, imaging the man she would dance with, most likely to be her father, who had pulled up silently behind her. He watched his daughter have an imaginary conversation with her shadow. He could only guess what she was thinking about. He followed as she waltzed down the stone walk to the end of the corner. She broke from her imagination for a brief moment to look down the street and continued on with her imagination. She had gotten to a point where her father had seen enough and decided to break her from it.