Hey people! IceColdFlames here! Finally, I have come up with a story that seems good enough to post. I'm sorry if its not very good.. but that's why we write, isn't it? To become better? We won't become any better if we don't do something about it.

Anyway, here's the first chapter. It's not very romantic yet, and it rarely has anything to do with Yu-Gi-Oh, but I promise those things will come in later chapters! For now, enjoy!

He was the only person left on this earth to take care of me. My father. The only person I had ever cared for. And now he was gone. Gone forever. Just… just like that.

The rain soaked through my t-shirt, soaking through my skin, but I never noticed. My legs were aching from the strain, pleading me to stop, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to run, to keep running until I died of exhaustion, or until I fell off the edge of the world…

Patricia. That's my name. I'm half-Japanese, half-American. My mother died when I was little. She was Japanese. My father is… was American. I have a Japanese name too. Tsuki. It wasn't official or anything. It was sort of a nickname my mother's parents called me. But my father's parents hated my Japanese name. So they called me Patricia, or Tricia for short.

But who cares? Who cares if my name is Winifred? Or Jane Elizabeth? Or Flavius the XXIV? I don't. Excuse me, but I have to run…

After what seemed like hours, I finally sank to my knees, breathless, oblivious to the world around me. My head was throbbing, pounding, swelling as though it would burst any minute. And I wish it did. Rid me of my pain… end it now…

I had a strange dream that night. I was sitting amongst the fluffy white clouds, feather-light and garbed in a long flowing gown of white. The sky was periwinkle blue… my favorite color. The sky was twinkling with unseen stars, and the world below shimmered, like water interwoven with rainbows. It was funny. I was never the kind of person to like pretty things. But this place took to my liking right away. It was just so… peaceful.

Then a man came gliding down towards me, sailing through the air easily with his wings, with his brown hair blowing gently in the breeze created by his flapping wings. And here's another strange thing… I always thought angels had white wings. But… though I somehow knew this man was an angel, he didn't look like the kind we read about in books. His wings were so colorful. Exactly like a butterfly.

The man landed in front of me. I stood up tenderly, not wanting to fall through the cloud. Then I looked into his deep blue eyes.

"Am I in heaven?"

The words penetrated the silence, the voice sounding like chimes humming and singing, echoing around the air. I was surprised. It was my voice, but I had not spoken a word.

The man laughed. His laugh sounded like church bells, ringing happily and harmoniously. It was music to my ears. My father loved music. That was why he loved my voice. He would ask me to speak to him, and to say anything… everything I said was music to him.

I blinked rapidly to stop tears from falling. It hurt to remember my father. And it didn't help that the boy in front of me looked a lot like a younger version of my father.

The man smiled at me. "No," he said. "You are in a place more powerful, and too divine to be defined by a six-letter word. But that is not why you here. I have a message for you from Seth."

I looked up. Seth. That was my father's name. "Let me have it," I demanded.

The man looked at me for a minute, and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He handed it to me to read.

Dear Patricia,
I'm terribly sorry. You must hate me for leaving you. I must be a horrible person in your eyes.

No father. I'm sorry you left, but you don't have to apologize to me…

I hope you can forgive me. I will watch over you. I promise. I will be here for you.

Father, you will always be in my heart... you know that… don't say things like that. It just makes it even more proven that you're already gone…

I have a story for you. There once was a little boy who hated music. Music always hurt his ears. Every time someone turned on the radio, or began tinkling with an instrument, he'd plug his ears or leave the room. The sound he hated the most was the strum of his mother's violin. The whining of the strings hurt his ears.

One day, the little boy's mother sat down and took her violin from its case. The little boy left. He didn't want to hear the music.

The little boy went outside. It was quiet and peaceful, and he couldn't hear any sounds that came from the house.

But, as the boy waited, he heard something that didn't irritate his ears at all. It was a beautiful, haunting melody, calm, serene, never ceasing. He looked around for the source of the music… and you know what he discovered? He found out that it was the wind that was making the music.

After that, the boy learned to play the piano. To him, the piano made the most wonderful sounds on earth, exactly like the wind that blew in his mother's garden. You know who that little boy was? Me.

Each one of us has his or her own music. Some people might like happy, lively songs; others might prefer sentimental. Others might like the music of the water. We all have a melody. We just need to find it.

Discover your melody, Tricia. It's there. And you will always be guided along anyway. Look deep. Search your heart. You'll find it. Trust me. You'll be glad when you do.

Father

He didn't have to. Why did he do that? What did it mean?

I glared down at the letter. All of this was meaningless. If he hadn't died, it would've meant something. I would have known what he was trying to tell me.

Tears were streaming down my face now. I hastily wiped them on my sleeve and looked up at the man. He was silently watching me.

"I'm finished."

"Good."

The man took the letter from me.

"Hey, wait, that's my letter. What are you going to do with it?"

The man folded the letter and looked back at me. "It does not do to dwell on what happened, what might have happened, or what could've happened. All we must do is take in the lesson we learn, and bring it with us to the future." And with that he threw the letter over the edge of the cloud.

I watched it float gently down, down to the water below.

The man watched me silently. Then he spoke again.

"Your father asked me to tell you one more thing. There is someone back on Earth who will watch over you."

"Like a guardian angel?"

The man smiled. "Yes. But he is just a human."

A guy. A boy angel.

"How will I know who he is?"

"You will, Tricia."

You know my name?"

"Yes, miss…"

"You don't have to call me miss."

"Miss…"

"You already know my name, you don't have to call me miss…"

"Miss, please wake up!"

I opened my eyes blearily. I found myself on the sidewalk, the pavement beneath me rumbling every now and then as a car passed. The street around me was bathed in golden sunlight. The rain had stopped. It was early morning. And there was a black haired boy, in a blue striped shirt and yellow vest, kneeling beside me and looking at me with concern in his gray eyes.
Please review! I need as much help as I can get! Arigato!