His little darling was plump but he liked her that way. He gave her plenty of starchy food and sweets whenever she asked for them. He loved the way her cheeks dimpled when she smiled and how even her plump arms had dimples at the elbows –just like a baby.

She came to him when she was but three years old. She cried for her mommy at first but after a time she forgot (they all did) and eventually she accepted him as a daddy. He even let her call him that. It made him feel so warm inside. He'd become quite fond of her and he knew he'd miss her when she was gone. This one had the sweetest nature and was always so kind and thoughtful. When he got cold and his arthritis played up she'd drape a blanket around him ever so gently and bring him hot cocoa. She'd learnt how to cook from a very early age and seemed to have some kind of knack for it. He loved listening to her sing with childish abandon as she prepared his meals - she always sang, was always cheerful. Sometimes he would catch her staring quizzically at him with those great guileless blue eyes and at times it unnerved him but he never showed his uneasiness and he'd smile benignly at her. He wanted her to trust him and she did – or at least she seemed to.

Lily had never been to school, never known the company of other children. Her life existed within the walls of Castlestone Court, an austere building the colour of ash - the copious ivy hugging the walls the only redeeming feature of a place that seemed to swallow sunlight and brood in a state of perpetual darkness. The interior, though grand, was as dismal and even the beautiful tones of travertine marble and rosewood did little to lift the oppressive feel of the place. Daddy and Lily lived in the old house alone and never had company except for Mrs. Rathbone who came in twice a week to clean. This was never enough because one couldn’t walk anywhere without brushing into cobwebs and every surface was coated with a layer of dust. Mrs. Rathbone, a severe woman with angles and no curves, never spoke to Lily and at an age when Lily brimmed with countless questions, merely grunted in response to each one. Still, she did help to prevent the place from falling into a complete state of disrepair. Lily kept her own room clean and liked to place fresh flowers in a vase upon her dresser. She often opened the windows to let the fresh air in even though she knew daddy forbade it. He was always kind to her but he was quite strict about things and sometimes he'd get that funny look in his eyes and she knew not to push further. She had no reason to be afraid of him. He'd never hurt her and he gave her whatever she asked for. She didn't question why they never left the estate, as it was all she had ever known. Daddy said that mommy got sick and died when she was little. She didn't remember her mommy and this made her sad but the estate had its own graveyard and on the rare occasion she was allowed outdoors, she loved to visit mommy's grave. She once asked Daddy about the neat headstones on either side but the question raised his ire and so she didn't ask again. Her mommy's tombstone was elaborate and topped with a carved marble angel. The others had cherubs but no names were carved into the headstones, only dates.

Darkness took shape and leached an ominous ghostly form that seemed to float in insidious wait over her bed. The nebulous light of the moon accentuated the fearsome form and she shivered beneath her blankets. The quietness seemed to make a hollow buzz within her ears and she felt a scream work its way up from her terrified belly into her throat and then get stuck there. Her little heart palpated rapidly as she gripped the bedclothes with all her might. 'Was she imagining this?' She had no sooner considered this thought when she felt something snake swiftly across the bed and tear the blankets from her frightened body. The shock and fear caused her to become paralyzed, frozen except for bursts of involuntary shudders that seemed to vibrate through her very being. Her eyes strained through the darkness trying to fathom and make sense of the shapes but still she could only see shadows and her mouth opened and closed in silent screams.

Then she heard the breathing – raspy heavy breathing. The sound of it moved closer until it filled her ears with a penetrating intensity. A scream finally found substance but was instantly strangled by a hand clamped tightly around her mouth. With a ferocity born of desperation she began to struggle wildly. The breathing intensified until it sounded like the panting of a feral beast and with it grew her fear. She kicked and flailed with a frantic frenzy but was pinned firmly beneath a heavy weight. Eventually she began to tire and her struggling became weaker until eventually she was rendered feeble with exhaustion. Her head filled with the pulse of her own blood and tears of terror formed in her eyes. "Daddy, daddy! Help me!" Darkness sucked the last vestiges of light from her consciousness and mercifully she lost all awareness.

The old man stood silently in front of a freshly dug grave, his head bowed and tears oozing into the creases of his aged face. He held something carefully between his gnarled hands. He gazed for a moment through the mist at the newly carved cherub and then leaned forward and placed a single perfect lily in its arms, turned and slowly walked away.

~The End~