1 Chapter 1: Will you walk a little faster?

Flowers seemed strange to me—other than I can't see, hear, touch, taste or smell—humans have a rather unnatural love of them. By beheading and uprooting them from the very grounds they called home, then sticking them onto glass vase with scarce rations to survive, the torture was unbearable. The undead vanity of plants was an obsession of humans, an obsession taken to an outstanding degree on their special day.

"Are these the ones?" asked Mrs. Lockwood.

"Yes, Mother," a small girl replied, holding a large bouquet of lilies; orange petals with black and blue spots.

"And you won't lose them?"

"Yes, Mother."

"And I'm warning you—"

The girl cuts her off, "Yes, Mother."

"I am talking!"

"—'and I'm warning you Ash—" Ash began, shaking from holding the heavy bouquet, "if you show your face anywhere during the ceremony, you'll be sleeping in the streets by tomorrow along with your inheritance,"

Hamish, her mother's lap dog, gruffed.

Mrs. Lockwood went red, "Don't think of talking to me in that tone; you wouldn't last a day out there."

"Would I really?" Ash gave a hard glare, "Mother..." over-enunciating every consonant.

"I told you, you are staying inside," Her mother ripped the flowers out from Ash's tired hands and huffed.

Her mother never liked Ash behaving in that way. In fact, Maria didn't like Ash at all. A wife of an old hillside estate was honestly happy with just one child. She didn't expect the Lockwood family of such prestige should waste time on commoner nonsense. Common things—such as children—were nothing but trouble, in her opinion. Maria had planned to keep that sense, but that didn't stop the universe to have a little 'fun'.

Her mother muttered under her breath, "What a cheek. You slimy little—"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Loud knocks hit the door, "Maria..." A soft voice called, "They're ready," Mr. Lockwood entered inside. Hewitt Lockwood was a strong man; shoulders of a bull with the head of a ten-month-old baby. He also had a strange level of tolerance for his wife while also distaste her. It was probably Hamish's uncanny ability to water his flowers and leave fresh deposits in his slippers.

Mrs. Lockwood's mouth snapped shut, throwing a harsh glare to her daughter. Her shoes clicked as she walked out of the room in a huff. She despised everything about Ash; Ash knew that.

Ash sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror; she couldn't have picked a worse outfit. The dress she was wearing was far too long, a dark shade of green, and made her skin pure white. Her fringe—after missing too many haircuts—covered the top half of her harsh eyes while the rest of her inky black hair rolled over her shoulders like a dead octopus. With her black Panama hat and boots, she looked nothing like a bridesmaid. Yet she couldn't defy her sister's persistence.

It's not that Ash didn't have any fancy dresses, it's just none of them would ever fit her. All her clothes belonged to her late uncle Gavin, who lived in the attic before he disappeared. Now the attic's hers, thus the clothes were too, among other things.

Mr. Lockwood cut in Ash's thoughts, "Ash—I..." He wished to say something but nothing would do.

"Don't apologise, it's only been thirteen years," sighed Ash. Her father's face drooped to a sorrowful stare as she raked her hair into a tight bun. "I'd say give her twenty before she treats me like a human."

"Ash!" he called, but no answer. She propped her hat on her head and marched out the door and followed the woman carrying the gigantic bundle of ditch-lilies.

Ash couldn't blame her parents for the nervousness; Soleil's wedding had to be perfect. The church buzzed with excited chatter and children ran between the tables in a horrible nature game of kick and punch, ripping the white roses that stringed the rows of seats. The vicar already had two shots brandy and his drool dripped onto the podium. To top it off, Soleil's lifelong friends ruined the bathroom, now the toilets smelt like orange juice and vinegar.

Everything payed for, the lights, the flowers, even the band who arrived two hours early.

As the groom entered, applause spread across the room and began shaking his hand or patting his back. He was a man of high respect. That man was Edgar Guillen, the childhood boyfriend and soon-to-be husband. He grabbed the hand of the first girl and gently pecked on the top of her wrist before he strutted over to the altar. His lilac suit reflected a light of rouge at the vicar's face.

Their marriage was inevitable, Edgar and Soleil's, from the time they were born they were inseparable. Friends of friends since birth, their mothers tried everything to make the centre of the other's universe. Their love for one another radiated from them, touching the lives of everyone they knew. Through sicknesses and family tragedies, they supported one another even in the rough times. And now, they had an eternity to spread their whole lives together.

If that last paragraph made your face cringe back into your lower intestines, you would understand Ash's displeasure of the whole arrangement. Not that she didn't care for Soleil, but being only thirteen, love wasn't a fixation in hers.

Brushing off the icky feeling, Ash squished past the crowd of relatives, dodging the ladies' heels from stabbing her feet and stood along the pathway outside. Her mother was standing there too, the flowers laying down beside her, beads of sweat dripping from her forehead as the air pierced through her judgments. 'Where is she?' Mrs. Lockwood thought, 'She can't back out now.' The sound of hooves clopped from the street, splitting the silence as a lone stallion romped up the road. Behind it was a large orange carriage, blown up like a balloon and embroidered with green and gold vines.

'Like a pumpkin on wheels,' Ash thought as It stopped at her feet. Eyes met a pair of sapphires through the frosted glass, 'Soleil.'

Ash open the carriage door, revealing Soleil's ballgown, the snowflakes that peppered her arms and waist and complimented her hourglass figure. A gold diadem floating on top of her head. Chains that embroidered throughout her wavy blonde hair wrapped around her graceful neck. Their mother almost fainted, rushing over the carriage. It didn't matter, Soleil M. Lockwood—much like her name—breathed perfection. Ash sighed and held out her hand. Soleil took it, revealing her diamond slippers as she stepped out of the carriage.

"My darling~!" Maria Lockwood inhaled. "Ash, I told you to say inside–"

"I know," Ash said, handing Soleil the bouquet from the floor.

Soleil smiled, "Thank you, Ash." She looked around woefully.

Ash bit her lip, "He's not coming."

"Maybe if we wait a little—"

"He won't come,"

Ash could hear Hamish's growling as he hunched beside Maria. His fluffy white tail stood straight as Ash turned Soleil's attention back to the church. His stand remained utterly still.

'Stupid dog,' Ash thought, 'Can't tell the difference between a bird and a biscuit.'

Music erupted from the church, Soleil held the bouquet fast, hands twinged with sweat. Breathing became quick, almost heaving. She was nervous. Her eyebrows furrowed, time was testing her patience as she stepped inside. She glanced at the bouquet. Flowers all at the ready. Beautifully deadly. They carried a trance. Soleil swallowed. It was time.

The large doors swung open to reveal hundred pairs of eyes, all turned to stare at the bride.

Ash brushed a strand from Soleil's face, leaned in and said, "Show them all," and it was enough to her forward.

Ash followed close behind. Her hands grasped at the over-flowing sheer pearl train cinched at Soleil's waist. Covered in lace snowflakes, it froze to the touch. As Soleil strutted across the red carpet towards Edgar.

He mouthed the word 'wow' and Ash nodded: Soleil was stunning.

The words blurred into the music. Ash felt her hands grower numb. The train felt the weight of an actual train. She closed her eyes; each blink she imagined a bright light falling past her. It was a recurring thought. The white lights became ladies in sheets of satin—white hair draped down into the black water below, as if crawling from the sky itself. The thought made her feel lonely.

"From the power invested in me I now pronounce you, with the love, the beauty and the eternal promise to each other; Husband and Wife," The vicar closed his book, "You may now kiss the bride," the couple embraced, the music soared, friends and families cheered. Hamish, along with other dogs, howled in chorus. Ash used that moment to leave. She dropped the train, walking towards the library.

'Round the corner, second to the right,' she reminded herself before snagging a loganberry tart.

Ash was two steps away from freedom until someone blocked her way.

"Ash, darling..." Aunt Charlotte smiled, "Glad to see you off your phone. Dreadful habit of yours," she coughed slightly at her own smoke.

"I'm never on a phone," Ash said.

"You don't remember? All that time when you were little?" She stuffed a thin tube of glass between her skinny lips and puffed a cloud of cinnamon smoke in Ash's face, "All the useless information has caused your head become mush, I guess. But who's to say?"

"I'm not on my phone because I don't have one anymore, you broke it." Ash pushed past, muttering under her breath, "The only one who's brain-dead from bad habits is you,"

She would regret that later, yet talking to her relatives was something she avoided on all occasions. The Lockwood family don't have the numbers but their word affected even the daily newspapers. One word from them would change the wind.

Ash recalled a time when her father had kissed a little girl in the town square. The news flooded all over it. 'Secret Lockwood From Wedlock!' and 'Rich Man With A Dirty Secret' overflowed the papers until Grandma Lockwood, the head of the house, shut them up with simple bribery and her own form of dirt. To add insult to injury;The little girl from the town square was Ash Lockwood herself. It was her birthday and her father took her to the markets; she could've purchased anything her wanted. Not that would stop the reporters, she looked nothing like a Lockwood. Dark hair, grey eyes and freckles splattered across sheets of snow was the exact opposite of the Lockwood's golden locks, tanned skin and blue jewels.

'I'm the sheep in wolf's clothing.' She tell herself, over and over again. Evertually, she'd began to doubt it.

Ash stomped her way to the library. The doors were a dull wood, spotted by years of grubby hands. She gripped the handle. Locked. Her fingers slid down the edge before she found the keyhole. Crouching down to the hole, she peeked inside.

'Yep, it's the library,' she sighed, thinking the obvious, 'Seemed like it hadn't opened in a century,' She stood up, took a deep breath and close her eyes as her lips began to tingle. Her ears wiggled, her nose sniffled to the point of sneezing and soon her whole body started to wriggle as a shape formed inside her head. Something smooth, uneven, shiny. Following the sensation, her hands fumbled across the tiles, reaching underneath a large cabinet beside the door and there she felt it; a golden key.

Ash opened her eyes stared at the ornate top of olden days craftsmanship, but there was something magical about it. Old, passion engraved in the soft metal. She shoved it into the keyhole. A series of clicks echoed from inside as a grin stretched across her lips, twisted the handle, and the door open with ease. Walking across the old wooden floors, Ash noticed the dust and cobwebs that covered all kinds of books. Row after row of lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, fiction section arranged in alphabetical order with floor cushions parked next to velvet chairs beside a long dinner table.

'I wonder if people have eaten here?' she thought as her fingers brushed against one of them, pulling it off the shelf. One read: 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll'

She opened it, revealing pages turned yellow from age. Her nose wrinkled at the smell; mothballs and rat-dust, yuck! She glided over to the velvet chairs next to a large table, sat down and read. She never read at the beginning, finding excitements in reading a random page.

"Will You walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.

"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail."

See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!

They are waiting on the shingle–Will you come and join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?

Ash smiled at the poem. Just reading the first verse and she could hear the tune dancing around in her head, humming with amusement. The library echoed the sound as she waved at the air to sing while waiting for the books to turn fish and clams. The pages flowed around as sudden winds picked up from inside. They fluttered up from their shelves and waddled across the floor. Some began to squawk while others jumped, spattering their fins about.

Mouth dropped to the floor, Ash felt her eyes popped out of her skull, the books were turning into fish, clams, and birds. The shelves spewed out seaweed and sand, the sounds of the sea not far behind as the ceilling turned into a clear blue sky. No a cloud in sight.

Ash jumped up from her seat and onto the table as the water began to rise, bubbling with fish, seaweed and sand. Her head dashed around the room and locked onto a pair of yellow eyes, staring from the highest bookshelf with it's body completely hidden in the darkest. Ash hopped her way across the surprising sturdy cushions before running up the stairs. The water followed close behind. The creature only grinned, it had very long claws and many teeth. As she reached closer to the creature in the shadows, she realised that it was the shadow.

It was a black mass of fur, its tail flicked in anger as she leaned in close. It jumped around and threw books at Ash, turning its head upside down and back again, purring. Ash dodged, trying to reach for it but a group of birds attacked her from behind.

She screamed, "Hey! Get off!" wiping off the pages along with scales and feathers from her dress.

The creature's grin dropped from its face, growled and pouncing from shelf to shelf. Its head, although small, had very large eyes. Ears morphed from its chin to its crown and started to become rounder and fatter while it started to pounce on all fours.

Scratch! Twist! Swish!

It yowled with amusement, slinking in its new feline shape. The shelves cried at the sound, creaking and groaning while water streamed down their sides.

"Stop that, you'll destroy the room!" Ash cried, thunder clapped in retaliation. The cat stopped, its eyes grew wide and cheeks turned a shade of red from the embarrassment. Ash took that chance, grabbed the nearest chair and threw it, scaring the cat right off, "Stupid creature," as she slurred those words, her foot slipped on a trout and-

Splash!

Up to her neck in water.

The shelves arched themselves into large trunks; the sand become gravel, sloshed around with seaweed like a washing machine. Turtles drove deep into the deep, birds flew north and smacking into glass windows red and while salmon swam upstairs against the stream. A shiver ran down Ash's spine as one fish slapped her face and she crashed into the water. Her hands reached for the closest thing it could. The curtains were sheets of satin—her hair draped down into the salty water below, as if crawling from the sky itself.

The sea-salt filled her nostrils and when she arose, she coughed up seaweed.

Grabbing a large stone from the floor, Ash tossed it at a window, smashing the glass. Water gushed onto the floor, washing everyone off their feet, bobbing under the waters as the creature began to howl. Fish swum past with agitation while birds swanked from the sudden freedom. All while a black dog paddled past, harbouring the same yellow eyes.

Ash let out a yelp from the sight of the dog as it lunged towards her. She felt something under her feet before it grabbed her leg, dragging her under. She kicked and squealed as it scampered away. The creature smiled and swam through the current before Ash clambered outside and tumbled into flowerbeds and soil. A sea of gasp looked on in horror as Ash gave all her might to stand, seaweed tangling her hair and limbs. She spat out a tiny fish that reverted itself back into a page of an old dictionary. Her mother clutched her neck as Hamish bounded forward, barking at the 'wet monster' before ripping at Ash's dress, creating a tear that stretched from foot to waist. Ash was lucky to be wearing bike pants.

As she opened her mouth but a black bird swooped past before she could make a sound, disappearing into the clouds above. Not before glaring at her once last time with those bright yellow eyes.

But other than her dress being soaked and torn, her makeup running down her cheeks and the hordes of people staring down at her, she was fine. Except for the huge gashes running down her leg, and that her sister's the reception was ruined.