It was sparkling, gleaming like a shining diamond that never needed to be cleaned, it was a beautiful thing in a person that haunted her dreams even now, angelus, 'it's angel now, hello Rosalie long time no see.'
-
The rush of feet (moving over the stones slowly eroding them) was watched by her (little girl with a swinging pony tail and eyes that know too much) as her feet slowly jumped on each and every crack the phrase singing on her sticky lips, step on a crack, brake your mothers back.
People of all ages stopped to watch the lost child, (wide smiles that always seemed to reach her eyes) fellow school mates and tearful mothers, do I know her? Oh my! Where's her mother?
Mother? What's a mother? Some type of rare book? I want one! Twisting locks of hair, that were not too long or too short but just right, while she gave the gaping people her best smile and wondered off to find more cracks.
"'One daughter she had raven hair, a maiden young and chaste."
The moon welcomed her as her steps stayed the same even in the dark, no freighted eyes or screams for mother, what was a mother again?
And she slept all night in the pale moonlight, naked to the waist."
She came like puppet to its master strings twisting this way and that, the song mystical as it pulled her along with hopes of stories and adventures of grand proportions.
"'The other daughter she was fair, the fairest in the town.'"
The singer of the song, the song that seemed to want to pry open her eyes and show her a huge new world, (Irish lad skipping about town, such a fine dressed man with a smirk of a smile) his arms opened for the little child inviting her into the trap that awaited in them.
"Well, come child come and sing with me."
"They says not to speak to strangers and you are one, mister."
'This will be harder then I thought, smart child' the smirk reminded knowing that this little thing with her pink cheeks and raven locks could never outrun him, him with a face that will bring fear to our hearts.
"Can I see them?"
Those pools of blue staring at him full of innocent and soul shining (too brightly) but there was something else, a sense of knowing (too much) and those eyes made his smile drop away.
"See what, love?"
"Your fangs of course, don't vampires have fangs, all white and pointy?"
'Strange little person, stranger then Dru even, wouldn't she make a lovely new pet her and her seeing eyes?'
The thought came and went as a longing voice called out in his head making the little girl in front of him fade away, 'angelus, angelus come home, come home now. 'Yes, Darla.'
Corners of her mouth turned up as another crack came into view, brake your mother's back' came singing to her lips once again.
The confusion only grew as her tiny voice left him with, goodbye, goodbye angelus come again soon and sing.
-
"Little child, I-I'm afraid your not allowed in this ball, it is for adults only you see. Run along before you get caught, go get yourself some sweets."
Nervous fingers ran through red hair and his nervous voice shook with every word he spoke as he watched the child cock her head to the side with a knowing smile playing on her lips, it always made them think what's she hiding? What's she up to?
"Mister William, I can not go on my way till you read one your poems to me, every single word."
'William, William the bloody, bloody bad poet that is,'
"Well, if that's all you want then I shall,
'Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all.
And sweetest, in the gale, is heard
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That keeps so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea
Yet, never, in extremity
It ask a crumb of me'."
A sly hand came out and hit him on his forehead that was sweating beads and watching the child with shifty eyes.
"Liar! I may be but seven years of age but does not mean I don't know an Emily Dickinson's poem when I hear it, sneaky man."
"You-u seven? I believe you to be forty at lest, now get on; the guests will be coming and begging me to read them a poem, a poem I wrote."
"Goodbye William, William the bloody bad poet I shall miss thee!"
All that was left was the child's (Rosalie Jameson, did I forget to mention that? Silly little me) black shoes skipping away remembering to step on each and every crack.
-
Monks, why does it always have to monks stirring up batches of trouble one after the other on there knees praying for the end of the world, flames and all?
They fight like men, men protecting something sacred to each of there hearts, no! No, save the goddess, save her! But still each and every one of them still fell to the ground with a swipe of my blade.
"Angel! I found the goddess person they we're talking about, she's over here."
It was just a day, a day full of my job that never seemed to get old or new, but it sometimes brought surprises that I did or didn't want and she was one of them.
"Yeah, who is sh-"
Maybe it was the shock, the shock of an old face lost in my memories (or blocked) but I felt him, angelus stir within me when her face came into view.
"Rosalie?"