Disclaimer: I own Rose and other random people of randomness that were not created by Washington Irving and/or Tim Burton.

Once Upon A Time
Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Rose Hughes. She had silky hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall at midnight, and delightfully dark eyes to match. Her lips were rose petals laid upon skin as white as ivory but soft as satin. She was well-mannered, well-liked, and well-endowed (in both the physical and financial sense). But for all of her good qualities, she was infamous for associating herself with the oddest of men.

Take Ichabod Crane, for example. At the tender age of seventeen, he was just coming into his manhood, something which a great majority of Rose's other acquaintances never felt he became fully used to. In Rose's eyes, the brutes with which her mother chose to associate her could perhaps slander Ichabod for his slightly girlish mannerisms, but they could not deny the intensity of his appearance. His cheekbones were high, his nose was elegant, his eyes were intelligent and soulful, and he possessed a pair of the most interest lips Rose had ever laid eyes on. Besides that, his arms and legs were long, and he was scrawny. All things considered, Rose found him positively adorable.

They were the best of friends, and had been since childhood. However, Rose's mother, Abigail, began to think less of the boy after the death of his mother. She felt that without a mother's good sense, he could easily slip into a lifestyle of debauchery and unspeakable activities that were too horrid to even think about. But, being a generally polite person, she encouraged his frequent visits, if only because the Hughes had been a second family to him.

Naturally, Rose was delighted. It was almost as if her best friend were living in the same house as she, even though Ichabod still had a father who more or less lived with him. But he was often alone, and often wanting for company. That was something Rose was more than happy to supply.

But gradually, as the years wore on and hormones began to rule the delicate lives of these childhood friends, things began to change. Rose grew into a woman, and Ichabod couldn't help but notice. However, neither could a number of potential suitors seeking a handsome face with an even more handsome dowry to accompany it. It enraged him to no end, but there was little he could do about it.

Or so he thought.

And so begins the tale of Rose and Ichabod, two beautiful young people stuck in less than pleasant situations. But theirs is not only a tale of woe; nay, it is one of discovery. Of revelations and inclinations. Of first love, so tender and sweet, and how it can so easily be snatched away.


The blood is the life, Sikerra.