#lftv

Again, it was raining. Not a downpour, but a polite drizzle. Droplets fell carefully from the clouds, peppering the Earth below. The gentle sound of rain hummed through the forest, a sound drowned out by only the pitter-patter of hurried footsteps.

A little girl scurried through the underbrush, kicking grass, dirt, and twigs every which way. Tears fell from her eyes faster than the rain that trickled down her face. The world blurred within her eyes, glossy with repentance. Nevertheless, she raced ahead in a futile effort to leave it behind.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry… I'm sorry…!" The little girl pleaded beneath breathless gasps.

As she opened her mouth to beg again, the world began to turn. Wind tore through ivory strands of hair, thorns poked through the fabric of a tattered green dress, and mud clung to the girl's teeth. The little girl did not complain. Instead, she sat upon her knees, silently watching rain and regret soak through her dress.

She hadn't meant to break it. All she wanted was to put that butterfly on the petal. That's all. It had to be that vase …! Why was it that vase?!

If only her mother knew how apologetic the girl was—how simple a mistake it had been—forgiveness might be possible. And, so, the little girl pondered idly about how she might seize it.

Creeeek…

The sound of a tired wooden door split through the gentle shower above. The girl tensed, jaded eyes snapping to the sound's source. A meager cabin sat only a short distance away, warm air wafting out the cracked door. The little girl looked to her side, then to the other, but not a soul lingered around. Swallowing her reluctance, she cautiously lowered her hand onto the golden handle, and a single step thrust her inside.

"Are you lost?"

The little girl lunged backwards, slamming into the doorframe, at the sound of a woman's voice.

The woman was clad in a casual black-and-white dress. One of her hands gripped a rustic teapot, blackened claws clattering against the old ceramic. The woman's rosy skin burned bright against the dark oak of the cabin. A pair of horns sprouted from beneath her curly locs, one severed near the base.

The girl knew those dark eyes held secrets, such as why this cabin existed in the first place. Often, the girl fled from the village, taking refuge amongst dense thicket. She visited this place daily, and so gave a name to each tree, shrub, insect, and animal she encountered. She knew them all—she could swear to it. Yet, not once had she ever seen this cabin.

"Well…?" The woman spoke again, that soft, knowing smile ever-present.

"… You're… a demon." The little girl said, shivering between waning sobs.

"Does it matter?" The woman snickered. "We can still be friends."

The little girl stared for several moments, brow furrowed. This woman—no, this monster—before her acted dangerously casual. Finally, she drew a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, and shook her head.

"I don't want friends," she explained.

The woman hummed in amusement, swaying her teapot. "Perhaps you'd like tea instead."

Again, the girl thought deeply about the offer. Demons were known tricksters, and they craft intricate domains to lure their victims. Her mother always warned. Yet, saturated by the autumn rain, the potential warmth of tea moved her.

"… What kind?" The girl asked.

"Hibiscus."

"Hibi-" She stuttered. "… But that's my favorite!"

"Then you'd better join me," the woman cooed, turning tail and parting for the kitchen. She called from over her shoulder, "Or it's all mine."

"B-but… But…" The little girl protested, then cut herself short. Her gaze fell to her dirtied shoes as she contemplated. A demon and a lost girl. Perhaps… it was all right for those two to meet. After all, who might mourn her? Holding the sides of her dress tightly, the girl approached the kitchen, step after step.

As her eyes drew upward, she found the woman already happily sipping tea. Across from her was another chair, a teacup, and a towel laid out. Between the two rested the teapot, accompanied by a vase with only two flowers inside—both hibiscus illuminated by a single, hanging light.

"Come on. Clean yourself up and enjoy your tea." The woman insisted.

At this, the girl's shoulders fell, her eyes softened, and her lip quivered just once. "Of course," she obliged, joining the woman at the table.

"So," the woman began as she watched the girl wipe mud from her dress, "Why were you crying?"

The question was so blunt that the girl nearly choked on her tears. She swallowed before answering solemnly, "I'm unwanted."

That was the simple truth, wasn't it? A girl with peculiar hair. A girl with peculiar eyes. The peculiar girl continued, "At school, no one wants to be my friend, so I play outside with the bugs. My mother says no one wants bugs in their home. Maybe… I'm a bug, too."

So that's why. Not because she loves bugs. Not because she broke the vase. No, her sin was fundamental.

"I see." The woman stared intently into her teacup, gently swirling the beverage by loosening her wrist. She counted the girl's sobs and said after the seventh, "Then… do you want to live? Or do you want to die?"

"What?!" The girl exclaimed at such an absurd question. Even so, she felt her answer deep within the pit of her stomach. She, too, stared into her cup, remorseful droplets spiking her tea. "I want… to die."

"Then go home. Accept your punishment, return to school, and you will surely die."

The frigidity of the woman's voice pierced through the cabin's warmth, threatening to freeze the girl's heart. It was a prophecy—an unforgiving truth that was certain to play out should the girl keep her choice.

Unsatisfied, the girl asked, "Then what if I want to live?"

"Then stay lost. Live amongst the wilderness, endure the coming Winter, and you will surely live… if only for a moment."

The little girl dropped her teacup onto the table, the quiet part of the woman's prophecy ringing in her ears.

"That's not fair," she says through gritted teeth, desperate for salvation. "Both those choices… It's not fair to unwanted girls like me. It's just not fair! Why can't I—?!"

"You want another option?"

The woman reaches over, placing a third flower inside the vase—a pale white lily. She nestles it between the hibiscus flowers before tenderly rubbing her thumb along the petals. "A world with only life and death is bleak, isn't it? I believe there is something between life and death."

"What do you mean…?"

"Become reborn. Take this vase home. Apologize. Day by day, become a cherished girl," the woman insists.

The little girl sat in silence, emerald eyes fixed on the vase in a trance. She wondered if something between life and death was real. To become reborn is to die, isn't it? Yet, it's also to live anew. Isn't that reincarnation? Resurrection, maybe?

"Is it really true…?" The little girl asked, gaze sinking. "Can something unwanted become cherished?"

"I think," the woman began without hesitation, "that should you believe in that kind of world, it exists… if only for a moment."

The girl stood motionless for moments, the beat of her heart aligning with her racing thoughts. Following a deep breath, she stood up from her seat with a humble curtsy.

"Thank you… I'll take good care of it," she vowed, slowly lifting the vase into a gracious embrace. She paced over to the door under the woman's careful watch. Suddenly, the girl stopped in her tracks, whipping her head over her shoulder.

"Oh, miss!" The girl stared with wide eyes. "I haven't seen you before. What's your name?"

The woman snickered. "I'm not telling. We're not friends, remember?"

The little girl puffed out her cheeks with a huff. "Meanie!"

Finally, she left the cabin with a timid gait. The rain was no bother this time. Through the fog existed a new world, and the girl couldn't help but wonder what awaited.

The woman watched through the window as the girl disappeared into fog and foliage. Her signature smile curled her lips as she closed those knowing eyes. However, she'd never tell. That's how "mean women" are.