IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE OTHER STORIES, GO BACK AND READ THEM. THIS IS THE 5TH!
"Ophelia! Get down here, breakfast is ready."
Ophelia yawned and stretched her short, pale arms above her head. Light filtered in through her window curtains and licked her blankets.
She always liked mornings. Everything was just waking up. The grass still held its fresh layer of dew, and the birds would cheerfully chirp a tune as the sun rose, reflecting magnificent pinks and oranges in the sky. She wasn't however, pleased with everything that came after.
"Good morning sunshine," her father grinned toothily at her. She noticed how it closely resembled the grimacing snarl of an animal, but smiled sweetly anyways, for her father's effort was not for lack of trying.
"Good morning," she replied, although she knew it was hardly that. He pushed his sandy brown hair out of his eyes and pushed a plate of steaming hot food towards her. "Why is it you carry that thing around?" Her father asked, referring to the limp, green fabric that she held in her arms. Her frog had been with her ever since she could remember, and her father just brushed her off saying that toy bearing was a childish adolescence stage that should be nipped in the bud. Despite her father's name, he was more depressingly cynical than Light. But she loved him all the same.
She didn't look much like her father, with curly black hair, chalk white skin and large, round eyes that never seemed to decide on a single color. But she was intelligent and knew it. Her mind was much more developed than any normal six year old, yet she still caught herself reverting back to the "adorable stage" that she learned as a secret weapon with her father. For no adult was immune to this power once unleashed. She was unstoppable.
But to her father, she simply shrugged her tiny shoulders and ate her eggs.
"I have to go to work so do your work and I'll be back tonight." He kissed her forehead and left her alone to finish her breakfast.
She did not resent her father. She knew he would always leave and always come back. During the time spent alone. She'd read anything she could get her hands on and retained every word she read. However, growing curious can lead to bad things.
At least that's what her father told her. Her father didn't tell her much at all.
They lived in a giant, abandoned building out in a particularly rural area surrounded with grass and rocks with a small lake not far out. She longed to go outside. Her father had forbidden it. And what father says goes.
But this particular day, the birds were chirping extra loudly and the flowers were in bloom around an old oak tree that shed acorns like a dog sheds its winter coat. What's the harm in going out once? She thought. Father is at work and there is not a cloud in the sky.
Sliding off of her chair, she ran to put on her shoes before delicately stepping out the front door into the sunlight. The warmth of the sun's rays warmed her heart and brightened her smile. Spinning in circles, she too in her surroundings; finally settling on the massive oak tree, and observed the birds as they flew in and out of the branches. A nest lay hidden between the branches and she had to climb on her tippy toes to see it.
In the nest sat a baby bird chirping for its mother. As the mother spit food into her baby's mouth, it led Ophelia to inquire as to why her father did not do the same to her. She was of course capable of chewing her food herself, but the fact that these animals had a different way of doing things tickled Ophelia's thoughts to no end.
And as the mother took off, leaving the nest with her baby abandoned, Ophelia felt sorry for the baby bird, knowing the lonely feeling that can come from—well…. being alone. She only meant to comfort.
But as her small finger brushed against the baby bird, it let out a loud squeal before falling limp and lifeless in the nest.
This would be upsetting to anyone. However Ophelia, although she had an advanced thinking process, could not comprehend the extent of what had just occurred.
In shock, she backed away, looking at her hands as if they were covered in an invisible substance and she was straining to see it.
"What did I do?" she asked aloud to nobody in particular. Slowly stepping forward, she rested her hand lightly on the trunk of the oak tree. And with a sickening snap, she screamed and ran before the timbering lumber could crush her under its fall.
It hit the ground with a sickening smack.
And in the back of her head, Ophelia could not help but think that no amount of "cuteness" could get her out of this one.
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