There’s giggling in the halls. He’s smiling and she is laughing, cheerful as ever. Laughter filled the air and she asked him, once, when she hops onto the porch where he sat reading a book, “ Daddy, why is the sky blue? ”
Simple questions for a simple child. An innocent child, free from blame. “ The sky is blue because of how colour interacts with light, ” he’d told her. She made a face and plopped down on the chair beside him, puffing out her cheeks whilst fiddling with light brown curls. “ That’s what the big kids said too. It sounds boring. ”
He’d just laughed and given her a pat on the head. “ Sometimes things are boring, but that’s how life is, sweetheart. ”
It’s strange to think about her when the house is empty; when the halls are quiet and the sky is dark. He’s the only living thing and the darkness is a monster that snaps at his heels. The posters on the telephone poles give false hope, for he knows why she’s gone.
He knows the blame is his own; it should not have come to this, and yet he had let it. He is not free from fault but she was, his little girl with stars in her eyes.
And the sky turns grey, as he stands in the graveyard, visiting his wife. There’s a new stone, beside hers. The dirt is freshly placed, still soft as he kneels and takes a handful, watching it slip through his fingers. A plan slowly formulates in his mind, for he wants his child back from the monsters that stole her away.
The sky is red when he brings her back home. The sun was setting as she wheezed, reaching a pale hand out. He stares; this is not what he expected, not what he wanted, of course it isn’t, not this specifically, but she is still his. He takes her hand and brings her close, hushing her cries with soft whispers and promises of safety.
“ You’re alright now, ” he says, cradling her close. “ You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. I’m here. ”
There were rumors of a ghost, haunting the town of Pendleton. A little girl that wandered on the very edge of the woods, a lullaby echoing after her in the night. The posters that held her picture were torn, but the locals knew her face, her voice, and the gossip whispered about an alchemist that was once a father, who lived on the edge of town.
He only comes into town for groceries and supplies, the whispers say. Such a sad man. Did you hear what happened to his daughter? How they found her in the woods? He hears the words yet pays no mind as he goes about his tasks.
Don’t go out after dark, the parents warn their children, not unless you wish to end up like poor Lyssa.
@alchemic-elric