Disclaimer: I don't own anything; except my original characters: Sephora, Cynthia, Myra, Isis, and other minor characters that I've created for this story.

Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you find it interesting. :)

The soft pounding of raindrops echoing with every steady plop soothed me as I stood in the center of a vacant room, hand-mirror in one hand, a candle in the other. Yet, even with the comfort of the storm outside, I cringed.

My family was blessed with good looks: tall and blonde. Whilst, I was dark-haired and petite.

I stared at my reflection: my skin was dark complexioned. My hair as black as an old frying pan. My lips blood red. Yet, it was my eyes that I winced at the most; those wretched things were black as coal! You wouldn't of been able to tell the difference between my pupil and my iris.

In anger at my disgusting reflection, I swung the mirror down and watched the glass shatter as it hit the floor.

Holding the candle out to it, the flickering flames made the shattered glass gleam.

"Sephora."

Startled, I caustically peered behind my shoulder, expecting to see my mother with her broom, ready to scold me for making such a mess.

Being an innkeeper's wife wasn't easy, she was always busy cleaning. And with my clumsiness, I didn't make it easier for her.

But, instead, I saw my eldest sister(I was the youngest of my two sisters) Cynthia in the light of my candle, "Sephora, must you always make such a racket?"

"I apologize." I muttered, walking to the small desk and placing the candle in it's holder, next to the two others already in their holders.

"Clean it. Now."

Swiftly, she spun around from the heel of her dainty foot, and padded away with such grace, I couldn't help but envy her.

I watched her silky blond hair bounced with life as she walked away. It was easy to say: she was not only the oldest but the most beautiful of my siblings. Her light blue eyes were bright and kind, her golden hair suited her porcelain skin perfectly. To add to her beautiful face, she was also tall and curvy; a very envious body figure, she had.

Whilst I was petite.

With such beauty, how could she not be engaged yet? She turned down countless men, and whenever I asked why, she would say, "love is love, not forced, not created, but found in time."

I didn't truly understand what she meant, but I would always nod my head in agreement.

I sighed.

Walked to the mess, bent down, and picked up the cracked mirror frame and the pieces of broken glass.

Whilst cleaning, I sang:

"Broken, dusty, dirty grime. Cleaning it would not be him, but I. To sweep, to dust. A spotless room was a must-" I closed my mouth, but the song continued, it's sound coming from the bed to the left of me-"oh, why must Sephora clean this mess?"

Then the wall to my right joined into the song, "Sephora, Sephora, must you be so naive? You wouldn't have to clean if you wouldn't make a mess of things."

After that, I took the song back to my own lips: "I do not cry, do not say 'oh, why?' for it is me, the reason a mess was made. So, now I must clean it, like a maid."

I smirked at my success.

I've been able to 'throw' my voice for a half year now, and was getting rapidly better with each practice.

At first, it was painful, for I had to summon up enough strength in my stomach to actually make my voice appear to be heard in another spot, but after countless painful fails, a month later, I was able to throw my voice short distances such as onto the floor in front of my feet.

Now, I can throw my voice quite far without pain, yet I still get cramps now and then.

After I picked up all the glass and tossed it out, I examined the room around me: spotlessly clean, as Mother was call it, then she would smile a smile that seemed to say good job. I love you.

It was my job as the youngest daughter to clean all the rooms once the guest leaves.

The bed was made, the broken bits of the mirror picked up from the wood floors, the desk and small round table was dust, and I had already swept. Everything was perfect.

Except me...

"Sephora!" Myra chimed as she skipped into the room, "it's dinner time."

I smiled at my sister and followed her down the stairs to the basement, where our family kitchen was.

Mostly we would eat breakfast and lunch in the dinning room, where our guest ate, but Mother always wanted dinner to be a 'family' time.

As I followed Myra(who has also been blessed with being tall and blonde) to the basement, I muttered a little song to myself.

My voice barley above a whisper, so nobody else could hear my murmurs:

"Little girl, lost in this world but wants no pity. Very different from the rest, yes. Her only wish is to be pretty."

Review please? Thank you. :D