Hello everyone. This story is a dedication to the epic story of Severus Snape. Those who have studied his character precisely, and share the same love for it, will see the resemblance between this one and the prince's tale.

I dont have any summery for this, just that it's a lot like the Prince's tale, and is abstract.

That's one thing about me, I write abstract and I write for myself. And mostly I write short stories, not those "more than 2 chapters" stories. This story was written on the spot as it came to my mind, so if it seems disjoint, then I'm sorry. Hope you like it, and make a connection out of the words.

Read, enjoy and please pease review. Even thought I write for my own mental peace, reviews are what keep me going...

Hope you enjoy it.

Stop And Stare

Avala walked the noisy streets of London. It was any other day, people bustled about their business all around her. Only Avala felt the difference. She knew it, her time had come. And anyway what had she, in this world of greed and deciet? What had she to live for?

She knew she was to die, moreover, she wanted to. Her mother, and her only friend was dead. And as for money, she had none. She sighed. She had to die, today. Right now.

And it was the perfect time too. From the distance, a carriage came on, guided by a young fifteen year old boy. In not more than a minute, it would pass by her. No, pass over her.

She would leave the world, go to a better place. She would be reunited with her mother, and him. With that last thought, Avala flung herself in the carriage's way.

The driver shouted something, but she didn't care. And before he could stop, there was a crash.

There she lay, as the boy got out and leaned over her broken form. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry.." he cried, tears leaking from his eyes.

His eyes. They were look at them warmed her heart, and she was rushed back to the past.

A young girl ran through the busy markets of London. She was out running errands for her sick mother. As she neared the ailment vendor's shop, she slowed. Picking up a botle of royal blue ointment from one of the shelves.

"Wait, that has a cost you know." A boy not much older than her said. He, she guessed was the owner of the shop.

"I know. How much?" she asked.

"Fifteen Gold." he said simply, his lips curving up into a wry smile.

"Fifteen Gold?" her mouth dropped open. "But I have only five... and my mother is really ill. If I could pay it back eventually...?"

"Hmmm, I see... but you will have to-" suddenly his face lit up, and he changed track, instead saying, "Why not dine with me?"

Avala was taken aback. But all the same, she smiled. Mesmerized by his handsome features, she nodded.

"Tomorrow, an hour past dusk." he said, "at 'The Inner Self.'"

smiling she picked up the medicin and walked away.

The next day Avala had gone to the cafe. And they had met everyday following the one.

The day Avala's mother became well, she asked to move in with the blue eyed boy, Patrick by name. Rich as he was, his kindness had won Avala over. Her mother agreed, and in Patrick's house, she began to live.

She lived in a mansion, with the man she loved. Her life was full. She was happy. Happy- carefully excluding one fact. Patrick didn't love her back.

To him she was a sister. One he had cherished since childhood. She was his compassion, and a source of understanding, a little sister. While he was the only one she had ever loved.

Oblivious to this, Avala enjoyed every moment of her life. Until one fateful day.

The day that she entered his life. She the black eyed, dark haired, beautiful wretch. She stole him away and they eloped. And Avala, heart broken and unhappy, could not stop them.

A week from their wedding, Patrick decided to move. He and his monster of a wife. Leaving his wealth and mansion to his 'so-called' sister, he moved. To Scotland.

She learned to live alone. Deep in misery, she became a loner. A young, beautiful woman, but her conduct was that of an old maiden. Stone cold, and distant. Almost dead.

And then one, news reached her. Patrick and his wife had died. Murdered in a brutal robbery. None in that household survived. Only Patricks twelve year old son.

Told she was of the prince, personality whose matched that of his father. But his face resembling his mother. Told she was of his eyes, which was the only physical resembance to his father.

And right now, she looked into those very same eyes. Deep oceanic blue, met with her hazel ones.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Forgive me..." he kept saying. As tears leaked down the fifteen year old's face.

"Dont be sorry, son. This was meant to be."her own eyes watering due to the pain those eyes caused.

"Look at me." her voice was haorse. "You are lucky son. Your father mayn't be with you today, but he was there, to guide you. And to guide me. I loved him..."

"You... you are Avala?" he asked, "mother said you had always loved father."

Avala smiled slightly. "Always." she said, her voice failing.

A tear ran down his cheek, she wiped it away. Patrick would never know that she had died looking into his very eyes. Longing crossed her heart, as pain enveloped her.

Physical and mental pain. A thousand feelings rushed through her.

Longing.

Pain.

Sadness.

Love.

Frustartaion.

Anger.

Hatred.

And then finally relief, as her vision blurred and the pain eased. Avala was dead.

There it is. Hope you liked it...It may not make much sense to many, but it does to me. I hope you were able to connect the story.

Please review. They are always appreciated.

Thanks and regards, Maira.