Things used to be different for me. I used to love being outside. I could spend hours out there, roaming the world. The sun would feel warm against my pale skin. Life on my father's farm was pleasant and quiet. I spent most of my time working, but when I wasn't I would draw. I drew pictures of all the flowers and animals on the farm. My mother and father were considerably happy despite being quite poor. I remember how my mother was a gorgeous, kind woman. She had long black hair and pale skin, just like me. She taught me how to spin wool at our spinning wheel. They loved me and I loved them. My parents had been hoping for me to be a boy so I could have helped more on the farm, but they loved me nonetheless.

Yes, things were pleasant alright. I spent every day doing chores. I fed animals, gathered their eggs, then spun thread at my spinning wheel. Spinning thread gave my time to think. I sat at my wheel and hummed a song that I heard in the village from the musicians. My mother was stitching together my father's shoes which had become tattered over the years. The sun was just beginning to set so my father was lighting a fire in the fire pit. My hands were callused and dirty but I didn't really mind. So I spun at the spinning wheel.

"Ah gash!" My father exclaimed as he fanned his burnt hand out. He dropped his flint and stood up from the fire pit, "I never should have let this blasted fire go out!"

I let go of my thread of wool and walked over to my father, "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am, it's this fire with a problem." He gestured with frustration towards the fire pit before lying back against the wall with a huff.

My mother stood up from her stool and set down the newly repaired shoes, "Dear, you really should be more careful."

She helped the shorter skinnier man up and patted his hand in hers.

My father had honey colored eyes and short brown hair, he was a cripple. He broke his leg while plowing the fields and it never healed right so he walked with an old cane. The cane was probably the nicest, most valuable thing he owned.

We lived in an old barn, living close to our very few crops. The days were long and hard, but the nights were long and harder. I didn't mind- mostly. There were times where I dreamed of a better life for myself and my parents. Sometimes I felt jealous of the others in the town who were much more fortunate than us. I may be describing myself as a nicer person than I am. I do my chores, while complaining about them, I fight with my parents quite often, and I feel jealousy a lot. More than anything I'm vain. I'm not even trying to ask for pity because of my vanity, I'm simply quite vain.

I have long black hair that I keep pinned up in a bun, and pale porcelain like skin. I'm short and skinny and I have light green eyes. I'm actually quite gorgeous. I'd also consider myself a hopeless romantic. I used to see attractive boys my age in the village when my father took me with him to sell the crops.

The next afternoon was another day my father would take me into the village for trading. The sky was a moody grey color, there was mist hanging in the air around me and my father. I rode in the back of our wagon with my hood pulled over my head while my father drove it. I loved the clip clop of the old horse's hoofs on the cobblestone streets. As we rode past the small houses the people in the yards looked out and stared. I tried to ignore it but I couldn't help but feel ashamed. No one should ever feel ashamed of their family, but I did.

"Are you alright?" My father asked me from the front of the wagon.

"Quite." I responded quietly.

As we continued past all the staring faces I glared back at them. They had no right to look at me, unless they were looking at my beautiful side. And I was not looking too beautiful at that afternoon. My hair was messy and matted and I was covered in dirt that I never had a chance to wash off. I closed my eyes and listened to the clip clop of the hooves and waited.

When the wagon finally stopped my father awoke me, "Babette, it's time to get up, dear."

I opened my green eyes and stood up. My father took my hand and helped me step out of the wagon.

"Thank you, Father." I mumbled.

He smiled and nodded at me in return.

My father left me outside while he went into an old townhouse. I leaned up against the wall of the house and tipped my head downwards.

After a few minutes I heard a voice, "Excuse me, Miss?"

My head shot up with surprise, "Uh, yes?"

It was a very handsome boy, he was probably 16, my age. He had short dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He was tall and looked strong too. Behind him was a wagon full of flowers and in his hand was a single rose.

"Might I offer you a flower?"

I was quite interested in this boy. Which was saying something because when I was all dolled up boys would line up to talk to me, I just never found any worthy of my beauty. A beautiful girl like me, I deserved something special. This boy though, he was quite handsome. He had a particularly strong jawline.

I looked down at the rose and instantly thought it might look good in my hair, so I stuck out my bottom lip in a pout and said, "I don't have any money…"

"Free of charge." The boy smiled his perfect smile.

I took the rose and tucked it behind my ear, "I'm Babette."

"That's quite the darling name."

There was a long pause while he stared at me, I assumed he was probably admiring my beauty, but then I gave him a look, expecting his name in response.

"Oh, and I'm Edmond." He blushed and I smiled at him.

He was quite the catch and I thought that I might just keep him.

"So, what brings you here?" Edmond asked me.

"My father is trading with the man inside." I tapped on the side of the house I was leaning against.

"Ah," Said Edmond, he was clearly trying hard to make the best of a poor conversation, "I'm here selling these flowers," he gestured towards the flowers.

"Quite the job," he was not very interesting to me, but that didn't make me want him any less, "You must meet strange and interesting people while you sell your flowers."

"Of course, although I've only met the interesting ones outside of this town."

This sparked my interest, "Outside of here?"

He nodded with a smile, "But perhaps I could tell you about it on another occasion?"

"I'd love that."

I liked the idea of all the things I could see outside of that small poor town. I wanted to see all the riches, the beautiful people, all the different luxuries in the more fortunate parts of the world. If I could ever find a way to that other world, I thought that I would fit in quite nicely. I could put my hair up in an intricate, complex fashion. I could wear makeup to make me look even more gorgeous. I could wear long, sparkling gowns made of jewels from another land. Ah, yes, it was my dream to live in a shining castle filled with servants just for me. And a husband who was just as gorgeous as myself.

My father stepped out of the house, his conversation with the man inside drifted out into the street.

They shook hands then my father turned to me, "Babette, we will be leaving now."

I nodded then looked back at Edmond, "I hope to see you again." I smiled my best seductive smile.

"You will." He smiled back.