Hello everyone and welcome to my long awaited sequel to Heaven's Light Shine Upon You. Many of you have demanded a sequel out of me so here it is! So without further ado . . . The Light Within Us!

The Light Within Us

Chapter One:

Ten Years Later . . .

Morning in Paris, the city awakes

To the Bells of Notre Dame!

Indeed the city of Paris was awaking; the sound of the heavy bells that tolled from Notre Dame's twin towers seemed to ring out in seer joy and elation. Once the townspeople stepped foot outside their doors they were met with a light warm breeze and a clear, cloudless sky of blue. There was a new feel in the air this particular day, as if the very air around them had been electrified by a bolt of lighting. Even the crabbiest, sourest, most disagreeable of the Parisian people would, for once, put away their foul moods and be enlightened by the many colors, music, dancing, and of course, foods that today would bring them. For the sixth of January had could at last! The Festival of Fools!

And no one, not one soul in all of Paris, was more excited than Sophia Chevalier. As she stepped out of her small cottage (which sat three houses down from the stone bridge) and closed the door behind her, she closed her light blue eyes and allowed herself to take in the warmth of the sunlight and the sound of children playing in the road. She gave a contentious sigh, then slowly opened her eyes, turned left, and started down the cobbled street.

The fisherman fishes, the bakerman bakes

To the Bells of Notre Dame

Upon reaching the stone bridge a flash of mischievousness sparked within her. She smiled as she preceded to back up about five feet before rushing forward and jumped up onto the stone ledge. Once she had regained her balance, she skipped along the ledge swinging her arms and humming under her breath. Nothing in the world could detour her insatiable cheerful mood today. Absolutely nothing.

"Good morning Sophia!" Greeted the fisherman who sat at the height of the bridge's wall, grinning like he just won ten gold coins in a card game.

The young woman (who had just reached her twentieth birthday two weeks ago) returned his smile, clasped her hands behind her, leaned over, and replied, "Good morning to you too Jacques! How are the fish today? Anything yet?"

If it was at all possible, Jacques' grin grew. "I've caught three small ones and two large ones! All in one morning! If my luck keeps up, I'll have enough to take home to feed my three little ones and buy Marie a new blouse!"

Sophia couldn't contain her excitement for the young man, "That's wonderful! I did notice that her blouse was getting a little worn, I bet she'll be surprised." Then she put a finger to her chin and tapped it. "Do you know what color she likes?"

The fisherman's smile faded at the question and now that he thought about it, he found he wasn't quite sure. "No." He said slowly, "I don't."

At his now perturbed expression, the young red-head tried to find a compromise to the situation. "Well, what color does she usually wear? Or maybe, what color flowers does she usually keep on the table in the kitchen?"

He thought for a moment trying to recall the memories and after a moment or two, his face lit up with recollection and excitement. "Yellow! She likes yellow flowers!"

Sophia smiled and nodded in approval, "Then I think yellow is a wonderful color; I'm sure she'll love it."

"I know just the one! It's that light colored one that sits on display in Madame Burlesque's shop in the square!" Jacques, who could hardly contain his excitement, suddenly dropped his pole beside him and scooped up the young woman in a burly embrace. "Thank you oh so much Sophia!"

The tiny red-head gave a hearty laugh and returned her friend's hug. "You're welcome Jacques, but if you don't go back to fishing you won't be able to buy the blouse for Marie."

"You're right!" He immediately held the girl at arms length and gasped in horror. "How could I have let my mind run away with me! I must return to work Sophia right away!"

He dropped his arms from her shoulders, hastily picked up his pole, and settled himself down in his usual spot to cast the line out as far as he could. "I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness, but I really want to surprise her. She deserves a little spoiling now and again."

Sophia just laughed and shook her head. "Don't worry Jacques, I understand. I can't wait to talk to Marie after she gets
the blouse. She'll be talking about it for months!"

The young fisherman puffed out his chest in pride. "That's right! Well, till next we meet again Sophia!"

"Bye my friend!" She jumped from the wall and continued on her way, sending her friend one more wave before he returned to the fish below.

When the young woman had crossed the bridge she came upon another one of her friends, the baker Pascal. He was coming out of the bakery carrying five large loaves of bread, each about three feet in length. He was so busy with placing them in the cart he didn't notice that the small red-head had come up on his right and leaned her whole right side against the wagon. Once he was finished with securing his source of income he raised his head and was met with Sophia's face an inch from his own.

"AH!"

The man scrambled away from her as fast as he was able. However, in his effort to do so, he lost his balance, hit his head on one of the beams of wood, and fell to the cobblestone in a heap. Sophia gasped in shock and rushed to the man's side, who was now rubbing his aching head in pain and mumbling a few choice curses under his breath.

"I'm so sorry Pascal! I didn't mean to startle you! Are you alright? You hit your head pretty hard! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Will you hush girl!" He hissed sharply, silencing her apologies almost instantly. Then, realizing that she hadn't meant any real harm, added softly, "It's alright Sophia, I'm fine. You just . . gave me a right turn is all. Try not to do that, I'm not as young as I used to be."

She nodded slowly then, with all her might, grabbed him by the elbow and helped him to his feet. "I am sorry. It wasn't my intention to frighten you."

The man huffed impatiently and rolled his eyes as he straightened his baker's hat. "You've already apologized girl, enough. I'm fine and so is the bread and that," He emphasized, "is the important thing. I can't afford to have my bread broken or me for that matter."

"Yes monsieur." She replied softly, still ashamed that she had injured her friend.

At seeing the sad and unhappy look on the young woman's face, Pascal's felt his hardened exterior melt and he couldn't help but feel angry at himself for being so hard on her. His expression soften and when he spoke he was calm and more gentle.

"Truly Sophia, it's quite alright. I'm sorry I was short with you." Then he added with a laugh, "No pun intended."

The small red-head laughed in return, "Quite alright Pascal. Consider us even then."

She extended her hand in friendship for the large man to grasp. A large smile crossed his burly face as he grasped her tiny hand in his rather large one. At seeing her smile, the old baker couldn't help but feel his heart swell. The girl has always been like the daughter he never had. He cared about her greatly and wished, not for the first time, that he had been able to hold his own daughter in his arms. For you see, the baker and his wife had lost their first and only child the moment she was born. She was born still and her body was small. Too small. The doctor said that she had come a whole month too early and that she never even had the chance to take one breath in this world.

And so, Pascal looked at Sophia has his own even though she had her own parents; good ones too. Though over the past year, the girl had been spending as little time at home as she possibly could. Her mother was in the middle of trying to find a suitable husband for her and her father had died two years ago from the fever. Ever since, whenever she needed someone to help her or just hold her, she had come to him and Clare, his wife. They had even opened the room that was made for their daughter to Sophia, who refused at first but when they wouldn't hear of it, finally excepted. Though, she rarely used it at all. She only kept a few of her belongings in that room, things given to her by her most greatest of secrets.

To the big Bells as loud as the thunder

To the little Bells soft as a psalm

Sophia's head snapped up sharply to the left, her gaze falling on the sight above the neat row of houses: The two towers of Notre Dame. Again, the bells tolled. She was late.

"Sophia?"

She returned her attention to her adoptive father, whose eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes concerned. He grasped her hands tightly in one of his and gave them a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sorry, it looks like I made you late for offerings again. I know how you love to spend your free time at Notre Dame. I'm sure your father, God rest his soul, would be very proud of you for your dedication. Just know that God also wants us to live ours lives outside those stone walls. Don't forget to live Sophia, please?"

She offered him a small, but sad smile. "I will Pascal, you and Clare are really too good to me. I just wish . ." She paused, not sure how to continue. "I wish mother would stop with the courtship arrangements. I'm not ready, I don't think I'll ever be ready."

Pascal frowned, "I know that it's difficult right now, but you must marry if you are to survive Sophia; you can't make a living on your own. Besides," He smiled softly. "There's someone out there who sees you for who you are. Once you find him, then run as if the very devil is after you! I promise I'll hold your mother back so the two of you can make your escape."

She couldn't help but smile at his words and then, without warning, she threw herself into his large arms and buried her head in his chest. "Thank you Pascal! But, I don't know if there is such a person for me."

As she spoke the last of her words she knew she was lying. There was someone who she loved deeply, very deeply, but it could never be. It wasn't possible. Besides, she wasn't even sure if he felt the same in return. Her greatest secret, her greatest lie, her hunchback of Notre Dame. She was in love with the bell ringer of Notre Dame. She lied about giving alms every other day, she lied about where she had gone when she returned home late, and she lied that there was no man in Paris that she could grow to love. She already loved one man, but the world would never approve. Not her mother, not Jacques, not even Pascal and Marie. None of them would understand; could ever understand.

And some say the soul of the city's

The toll of the Bells

The Bells of Notre Dame!

Her heart belonged to someone the world would never love. The every person who the people of Paris feared above all else: The Hunchback. And she was late to meet him.

"I-I have to go Pascal. I'm late enough as it is."

Oh how she hated to lie to him! It tore her soul to lie to very man who had been more of a father than her real one. Oddly enough it hurt her more to lie to him and Clare than to lie to her own mother. But lately, all Lea Chevalier cared about was marrying off her daughter and receiving enough money from her Sophia's would-be husband to pay for her living and tax expenses. If she didn't marry soon, they would lose their home and everything they had worked for over the past twenty years.

But despite this, Sophia just couldn't bring herself to do it. To marry a man she didn't love, let alone someone she never knew. Was she a coward? Was she selfish? It was a classic tale of love and owe, only this time, it was very much real for her. And there was no way out.

Pascal smiled down at his adoptive daughter, unaware of her inner toil and plight. "Of course girl, off you go."

As she speed off for the cathedral she heard him call out behind her. "Try not to be late again! Your mother worries enough!"

So now here is a riddle to guess if you can

Sing the Bells of Notre Dame!

She ran, pushed her short, yet muscular legs as fast as she could. She weaved around carts of fruit and vegetables, around stalls of goods, and as she turned the last corner she spotted a group of gypsies performing a dance to music. One woman in particular had caught the attention of every man watching the performance: a young woman with long, wavy ebony hair. She wore a simple purple skirt, a white blouse that hung around her shoulders, her dark hair was tied back with a light pink band, in her left ear was a single golden hoop earring, and a golden anklet hung around her right foot.

But the ebony-haired woman wasn't performing alone; dancing along by her side was a rather handsome white goat. He bounced around her to every beat of the music, thoroughly enjoying the attention from the crowd. As if to prove that he too was apart of this marvelous group of people, he too wore a single golden hoop in the flap of his right ear. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

A worn purple hat sat in front of the gypsy group, enticing people to throw in a coin or two. Sophia, who was one to enjoy such music and performance, couldn't help but toss in a total of three gold coins. That left her with one coin left to give to offering at Notre Dame, but in her mind and heart, she felt as if she had done nothing wrong. These people had to live too and plus, they were performing such wonderful music and entertainment, so why not? Was it so wrong to give them something for their talent? For their hard work? Was it wrong to try to reward people for something a simple as giving the people of Paris something to enjoy? Something to be happy about?

Again Notre Dame tolled and Sophia was suddenly reminded that she had someplace to be. She had stood up her friend for long enough; it was time to go. She set off in a mad rush through the square and up the stone steps of the cathedral.

Who is the monster and who is the man?!

Through the giant front doors of Notre Dame she continued to run, dropping her single coin into the donation box without missing a step. Up, up, and up the spiraling stone staircase; by now Sophia's heart felt that it would burst from the confides of her chest. It protested, pleaded with her to slow down and stop. But she would not, she only kept running; kept going. Across the rose balcony, up another set of stairs, and finally, through the South Tower's small wooden door where her truest friend dwelled within: The bell ringer of Notre Dame, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, the one who held her heart, but unfortunately, never even knew he had. Quasimodo.

Sing the Bells, Bells, Bells, Bells,

Bells, Bells, Bells, Bells, Bells,

Bells of Notre . . . DAME!

There you have it, Chapter One. I'll try to have 2 up as soon as possible but I am working on another story and I work for a living. That's right poeple! I have whats called A JOB, which means I won't be able to up date every single waking moment. So patience on this would be great!

And now, a special thank you for a special someone . . .

*pulls someone from behind a curtain*

Everyone! Please give your undivided attention to . .

drumroll please . .

THE IMAGINATIVE LIGHT!

That's right people, without this wonderful person standing right here beside me, I wouldn't be able to have this story return! So a round of applause for Ms. The Imaginative Light!

Take a bow please Ms. Light we all know and love you!

That's it for now everyone! Goodnight!