My Daughter
There was no plausible explanation for how she didn't get into a wreck—or pulled over—on her way into the Lower East Side. After weeks of waiting, one lone soup kitchen employee had called to say that he thought he might have seen Melody, but he couldn't be sure. He did, however, leave an address.
Amy was shaking as she climbed out of her car, address in hand, and lifted it to compare to the street sign. Yes, she was in the right place. "Melody!" she called, hurrying to the nearest alleyway. "Melody!"
Rats scurried.
"Melody, it's me, your Mum!"
A dog barked.
"Excuse me, ma'am, have you see this little girl?"
"Sorry."
Amy wiped her face and wished Rory was there to help her, but he was at work at the hospital…and her searched pained him anyway, for he didn't think they ever would find Melody. "Please, sir, have you seen this child?"
"I ain't seen 'er, lady. Ya tried the cops?"
The sun wavered in the sky, eventually falling away completely, allowing the moon and stars to take its vigil. Without her flashlight, she followed her way back to her car using the street lamps, always careful to keep one eye ahead of her and one eye watching for muggers. Once inside, she locked the doors and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel in despair. She'd searched blocks out from the soup kitchen to no avail.
Amy barely pulled onto the street when a blur of motion caused her to slam her brakes and she realized it was a raggedy old dark skinned man, running across the street, screaming. She was ready to get out and find out why when a spray of light caught the corner of her eye. She could hear her heart blaring in her chest, loud enough to be her car horn.
She left her car running in the middle of the street and ran to the alley. At first it seemed like a dirty checkered hovering in mid air with a golden sparkler exploding inside, but Amy knew better. She'd seen the Tesselecta's imitation at Lake Silencio and she'd seen Mels in Berlin: it was a regeneration.
It was Melody!
The gold began to fade and for one brief moment, Amy saw her daughter's face, and Melody saw hers. For a second, just a skip of a heartbeat, she saw a smile, and it was exactly as she imagined; as she'd drawn on the missing posters.
And then, it was gone; replaced by a new face. The dirty ginger hair was now black and smooth, like a panther's coat, her skin pale, and her eyes dark brown above high fat cheeks the size of golf balls. Suddenly her clothes were slightly too big for her.
"Melody?"
The child smiled and a kiss of golden energy wisped from her lips. "Mommy?"
