Mabel leaned against against a tree. Dipper was playing with a leaf, and Sally was trying unsuccessfully to build a fire. The dim moonlight shone through a crook in the canopy of trees, and the branches swayed softly in the gentle breeze. A stream trickled nearby, and Mabel could hear tiny fish jumping in the ripples of the current.
It was a beautiful night- and Mabel was bored to tears.
"Sally!" she shouted suddenly, jumping up into a sitting position. Sally dropped the fire stick she was using at the sudden exclamation.
"Give me a heat attack, will ya?" she asked. Mabel made a face.
"You sound like my Grunkle Stan."
"Huh!? Whatever. What were you asking me?" Sally asked.
"Well, I was wondering... if you'd tell us a story," Mabel said, scooting closer to the older girl. Sally scowled.
"I'm not good at those," was all she said.
"Well I'm sure you told plenty to Emma," Mabel coaxed. A clouded looked formed over Sally's bright blue eyes. And in the moonlight, they seemed to flash brilliant arrays of sea green and celestial blue, fringed with pure gold near the dilated pupils.
"She... was my flower. My life. Emma loved stories," she said.
"Was?" Mabel asked curiously. Sally sighed.
"Okay, Mabel. I'll tell you a story," she finally said. The younger girl squealed and rested her head on Sally's lap. At first, the older girl was caught if guard by this sudden affectionate gesture. But eventually, the sweetness of the girl's innocence helped her warm up to it.
"Now, there once was a beautiful little girl. She was twelve years old, and had golden hair that shone like the sun. Her sister would brush it every morning until it sparkled. And her eyes... a mystic stormy gray that laughed in the springtime and mourned in the winter.
"Now it so happened that every spring and summer morning she would run out and collect flowers. She was, in fact, a gentle flower that longed for sun and light, and happiness. The little girl had gone one special morning to collect a special flower for her sister, whose birthday was that day. The shining sun and whistling birds promised a day unlike any others.
"The girl's sister decided to follow her that morning to keep the young girl company. As they skirted along bramble bushes and forgotten paths, they immediately were drawn to a large yellow flower just ahead. The little girl squealed, and just as she was about to present the flower to her sister, the girls caught sight of an even prettier flower farther ahead. Excitedly, they rushed towards the bright purple flower with hues of the brightest blue. Just as the girl was about to pluck it, she noticed an even prettier blossom growing beside a pine tree.
"It went on like that for the next hour or so. But there was something peculiar about the flower trail. It seemed innocent enough at first, but soon it began leading the girls in the direction of a forgotten path. Sidestepping strange creatures and thorn bushes, the little girl and her sister finally made way to the final flower. Nestled in a hole in a scraggly old hollow tree, this flower was definitely more beautiful than the rest. A beautiful rose, speckled in bright summer green and pale pink buds.
"That was the little girl's opinion towards it. The little one who always had a positive attitude towards everything. Her sister thought the stem of the flower was hideous, and she proposed the green buds looked like poison. Nevertheless, the young girl picked it for her sister's birthday present. Although her sister couldn't argue the flower itself wasn't a monstrosity, she still had an enormously bad feeling towards the bloom.
"As the sisters walked back home, tired but successful in the day's work, the little girl began to feel woozy. And, out of nowhere, she gave a cry of pain and dropped to the ground. Distraught, her sister called for help. In tears, she examined her sister to see if any type of bug had bitten her to cause her to faint. Opening up her palm, the sister discovered fifteen ebony black thorns poking from a gash on the hand. The cracked stem of the flower dropped onto the ground from her pale hand.
"The next day, the little girl was proven to be dead. She was put into the cold, hard ground; a little girl who knew only light, only the sun. Doomed to the barren earth, never to see the sun again. And- and her sister had to live on, live on without her little flower. She became a drunkard, and sold her body to hungry men. Drugs became a way of life. So- not only is there one unhappy ending in this story, but two," Sally finished, and buried her face in her hands to sob.
Dipper did the same, once again relieved of the memories of almost losing his twin sister twice. The three of them cried, the past resurfacing. Sally held the twins close, her only little children in the world.
Review please! Just so you know, this story was previously called The 3.