Lily Rose

As I am writing the last few words of my story and the characters slowly fade from sight, I feel the presence of a new character standing in my room. I write the last word and put the story aside, revealing an empty page. I look up. There stands a young lady, her curls gracefully touching her shoulders, and her delicate white hand reaches out to me as if in silent plea. Her sky blue eyes glisten in the light with unshed tears and I nod in understanding, taking note of her age and appearance on the page before me.
       Once more I stare at the lovely girl. An unfelt breeze ruffles her blue chiffon dress and I see dust blowing lightly over her small white shoes. The Dust Bowl Days, I think, and she nods as she tosses me a pure white lily and a crimson rose. She points to herself and I write her name. Lily Rose.
       Scenes of tragedy and triumph flash before my eyes as the life of this amazing girl unfolds. As everything begins fading away, in desperation Lily calls out to me with a beautiful voice, "Write my story, Lydia..."

I will, Lily Rose. I will.