A crisp breeze made the autumn leaves tumble across the muddy sidewalk. It had been raining for the past few days, leaving the dirt a caky, slimy mess. Light from the stars and the fading moon glimmered across the early morning dew. An old man hobbled awkwardly up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. Grass grew in lush green patches across the front lawn, leaving the atmosphere with an unkempt feeling.

The building itself was nothing admirable, either. Cracked bricks smushed together made the rather boring one-story building look as old as the man. The roof's shingles were beaten and worn, with several missing in certain areas. Pieces of a waterproof tarp were duct-taped crudely over the holes in the roof. All of the windows were covered. The front door- painted an awful lemon yellow- was grimy and pathetic; it's paint peeling.

The old man picked up a soggy newspaper thrown carelessly onto his patchy lawn, and stuffed it into his leather messenger bag. He hobbled the rest of the way to his front door, fumbling through his pockets in search of his key. He mumbled to himself as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. The air indoors was considerably warmer, and yet the old man shivered. He took off his messenger bag and tossed it gently onto the broken and faded orange couch directly to his right. He kicked off his shoes and walked over to the kitchen (on his left).

"What do I have, hm?" he asked no one in particular; eyes scanning the contents of his fridge. Leftover Chinese takeout, a carton of expired milk, and a few suspicious-looking fruits stared at him. Sighing, he grabbed an apple and the Chinese food. Shoving the takeout into his grimy microwave, he looked at the apple in his hands. His eyes glowed gold and the bruises on the apple faded away. "That's MUCH better, now isn't it?"

There was a noise, quiet and almost indiscernible, coming from behind him. Setting the apple on the countertop, he turned around. He knew better than to call, "Hello?", but he found he couldn't resist a good old-fashioned "Who's there?"

When he received no reply, he closed his eyes. Listening carefully, he used a small amount of magic to enhance his hearing. The faint sound of shaky breaths and chattering teeth greeted his ears. It floated on the air lightly, like a butterfly's kiss, leaving an invisible trail to his bedroom.

"I know you're there. I can hear you," he called, walking towards his room. In the dark, it was hard to see, but the closer he got, the easier it was to notice the shivering shadow hiding in the corner. "You've no need to fear me. Come out where I can see you properly, why don't you?"

The shadow moved, ever so slowly, into the light. A young girl, no older than seven, cowered before him. A dirty dress hung off her bony frame; a mess of ringlets framed her face; her skin was dirty, but it was obvious she had naturally light-caramel-colored skin. Her twig-like arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, turning her knuckles white.

The old man pitied her. "Are you hungry?"

It was a few moments before she nodded.

"Would you like some food?"

The response came faster this time.

"Well, come on then, child. I've got some. Not much, mind you, but enough to sustain you for a while." he smiled, holding a hand out to her. She stood uncomfortably before him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Alright, well I'll go finish making it. You come into the kitchen whenever you're ready."

His hand dropped to his side and he shuffled over to the kitchen. He took the takeout out of the microwave and pulled two paper plates out of one of the creaky cabinets. He looked over his shoulder. The young girl's head peered out of the bedroom doorway. Seeing him, it vanished quickly. Silently chuckling, he divided the lo mein onto the plates, with one plate holding more than the other.

A small, rickety, oak table was pushed up against the wall. The old man brought the two plates over to the table, along with chopsticks for himself, and a fork for the girl. He took the plate with the smaller portion for himself, sitting down and beginning to eat.

A minute later the girl creeped out of the bedroom. The old man continued to eat, watching her approach the table through his periphery. She climbed up onto the dining chair and picked up the fork. He watched her look at the plate before her; eyes wide at the amount of food on it. He smiled to himself.

Once he'd finished eating, he sat back and watched the girl. She devoured the plate as if it would be the last she'd see for a long time to come. It made the old man sad.

"My name is Mer-" he began; catching himself. He shouldn't risk using that name. He cleared his throat, "Murray. My name is Murray."

The girl only briefly glanced up at him, lo mein clinging to her chin.

"You've a name?" he asked her once she began to slow down. She nodded. He waited.

"Ariel." her voice was tiny, like a mouse, and tired.

"That's a pretty name." he commented. She looked down at her plate and shrugged. "Do you not like it?"

"I don't like the people that gave it to me." she muttered, twirling the last few noodles on her plate with her fork.

"Your parents?"

She shook her head. "I don't have those."

Pity swelled in the old man's chest. "Who, then?"

She frowned, and the twirling became quicker; angrier. He could tell she wasn't going to tell him.

"Would you like to stay with me?" he asked, although he wasn't sure where the words came from. Her head shot up, and she looked at him with big, periwinkle eyes. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

She just continued to stare.

"I could give you a new name? Then you wouldn't have to remember those people." he tried. He was beginning to get a funny feeling that this was meant to happen; that this wasn't a chance encounter.

"What name?" she asked, ceasing to twirl the Chinese noodles.

"You pick." It was a hunch; or maybe a test.

Ariel thought for a moment; tilting her head. "Gwen."

"Another lovely name." he nodded, trying to extinguish the little spark of hope igniting in his brain. It had to be a coincidence. The young girl smiled. "So, Gwen, will you stay with me, and let me take care of you?"

A small smile crept onto Gwen's face. She nodded.

Murray smiled; had this been what-or rather, who-he'd been waiting for all this time? He couldn't be sure, but he knew that, nonetheless, a great adventure had just begun.


Hello, Beautifuls!

Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that. I haven't been able to work much on Maria, due to a raging case of apathy and writer's block. I'm working out the kinks, though, and am slowly prepping myself to get back to writing it, no worries.

Anywho, I fell in love with yet another british television show, and got this idea for a fanfiction! I wrote this a long while ago (around New Year's) and sent it to a beta, but my beta is a very busy human being, and so I decided to post it, about three months later. I like what I've got so far ( i know I say this every time). I have been writing a lot lately, though, thanks to a terrible school schedule and random bursts of inspiration. I've even got a story going on FictionPress (Little.D.526) that i've posted once a week on! I've got four chapters up so far, if you would like to check it out.

I am not writing this on my school computer for those of you who do read the FictionPress story. I'm writing this somewhere I will be able to access and work on it consistently throughout my spring break. For those of you who don't: My new school gives out laptops, but they are not very good laptops, and mine refuses to charge. I was able to transfer my writing to a flash drive, and so I have everything saved on my FictionPress story, but it means that my writing may slow down a bit until i can get it fixed. It shouldn't affect this story so much, but it may in the future, if it refuses to cooperate ever.

Okay, well, I'll go now. I love you all! Remember: reviews are much appreciated, as are questions, concerns, criticisms, comments, et cetera.

Hugs and butterfly Kisses,

Little.D