ONE SWEET DAY

Was she a ghost? A monster? He couldn't know for sure.

The woman stood placidly in the middle of the lake, her bare feet barely skimming the water's surface despite the fact she stood in the deepest part of the lake, with no rock to support her.

The man saw the woman at night, ambling about as though she had been sleepwalking. He followed her to this spot at the lake, spying on her at the water's perimeter, concealing himself behind an oak tree.

She was so beautiful. Fire-red, waist-length locks seemed to flow and sway to the breeze, though there was no wind. Her hair also seemed to serve as her modesty; the woman was not wearing any garments.

For a brief second the man felt guilty for spying on her? Was she lost? She was staring up into the night sky, at the full moon directly above her. Perhaps he should approach her…

The decision was made for him; the man lost his footing and stumbled onto a tree branch, alerting the woman of his presence.

The woman took a moment to react to the sound, then slowly turned to face the man. The man blanched, then his face reddened immediately; she WAS naked, only her long hair concealing her modesty. He stared in awe at the woman, her emerald green eyes studying him, nary blinking. Now that his presence was known, he had no choice but to act.

"You're…so beautiful," he whispered, mostly to himself, but he couldn't help but feel as though the woman had heard him.

For awhile she did nothing, simply content with staring at the man. Then the woman slowly smiled and and outstretched a pale hand toward her guest.

Lady Bridget paced down the halls of the palace, looking left and right through corridor. She was on a mission, and one that seemed more daunting as the days drew on.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?" she strode past the servants impatiently. Where could she have run off to now?

When she reached the garden she sensed she was drawing near to her goal. She briskly entered, the enclosed area of the palace surrounded by cherry blossom trees and divided by a shallow, thin pond that cut through the middle of the garden. After taking a few steps in side, Bridget sighed in relief.

There she was.

A blonde-haired girl in a pink royal gown sat quietly on a rock, her back to Bridget. She appeared to be picking away at the petals of one of the cherry blossoms.

"Your Majesty!"

The girl's back straightened immediately. Without bothering to turn around, she sprinted for the nearest tree and scaled it to its lowest branch.

Bridget sighed in frustration.

"Your Majesty, please let's not do this again….Your Majesty! Lena! Whoa!"

Bridget had lost her footing and fell into the stream, soaking her from head to toe. She hopped immediately out and shook her hair defiantly, making sure to sprinkle the girl with some runaway drops. She should've been mad, but she merely smirked.

"Don't you dare laugh," she threatened.

The girl covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a giggle. Bridget was relieved to finally see her smile. She approached the tree but rather than scale higher, the girl looked on expectantly.

Bridget sighed; she wasn't making it easy for her today.

She assessed the girth of the tree and made a running leap for the branch, ascending the trunk and then barely missing it as she stretched a wayward hand outward. With great difficulty, she pushed herself onto the branch and then sat next to the blonde. When she was close enough, Bridget could see she had been crying.

"So…what's up?"

The blonde did not respond. That was to be expected; the girl hadn't spoken a word since that fateful day when her life had been torn upside-down…

Bridget shook her head. It was not the time for sad thoughts. She needed her. She placed a comforting arm around the blonde girl.

"Are you alright?"

No response from the girl, merely a sniffle from her runny nose.

"Hey…I know you're feeling sad. I feel sad too. I think we're both scared. But…you have to be brave. Not just for yourself but for…them. They wouldn't want to see you cry…" she held the girl's head in her hand for emphasis and looked into her eyes. "And I don't want to see you cry, either."

The girl stared back, wrapping her arms around Bridget in a needy embrace. Bridget held her consolingly and rubbed her back. She placed her chin atop her head and closed her eyes.

"It'll be OK," she whispered.

The blonde girl said nothing, though Bridget could feel her body convulse with the onset of fresh tears.

"Come back here, you freak!"

A boy with a football-shaped head and blonde hair dressed in rags ran with the stray dogs and cats as he tried to escape his bullies. He had swiped a loaf of bread, and rather than share it, he decided to keep it for himself, much to the ire of his assailants. The boy ran as fast as his feet could carry him through the alley, occasionally, knocking over garbage bins and wagons to belay their pursuit.

At some point the blonde boy spotted a pile of old clothing littered in the street. Without hesitating, he jumped into the pile and stood still as the gang ran right past him. When they were out of sight, the boy decided to swipe the half-mask, top hat and cape for himself, then headed off in the opposite direction.

He heard the fanfare, faintly, then with a bit more intensity, then finally he spotted the caravans heading for the palace gates/castle walls.

It was a long procession. But the party moved in silence. The occupants didn't look like outsiders, but at the same time they looked…different. There was something about the way they had carried themselves, as though they were privy to some invaluable wisdom, like the fountain of eternal youth. Inside one of the caravan the boy spotted a young woman with black hair affixed In a bun, typing something into a computer. She's was pretty, but like the others she looked…different. He couldn't place his finger on how, and yet…

"There he is!"

The boy's attention was brought back to the ringleader of the group of boys charging towards him despite his clever disguise. He led chase again but was able to evade them, hitching a ride on one of the caravans making its way within the castle walls. This was the closest he had ever been to the centre of the city, and he knew he would never want to be near the perimeter of Laste Haste, where evil things lurked afoot.

Could these newcomers have come from beyond the walls?

"Welcome to Last Haste!"

The woman with the dark-haired bun exited the caravan to the greeting procession of a short balding man. The woman adjusted her navy blue business suit, as well as her glasses, and gave the man a formal bow.

"Hajimemasite- thank you. Pleased to meet you."

The bald man closed the caravan door behind her, but not before taking a glance inside. He looked ahead to the rest of the procession, then back to the woman, anxiously.

"And…the others? The Royal Family?"

The woman adjusted her glasses. "Forgive me. I had travelled alone."

The man nodded and continued to grin, but the woman could detect a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Right this way," he said breezily.

The woman followed the man as he led her to a modern looking building a few hundred metres away; all the while, she clutched the laptop to her chest.

"I must say," began the man, trying to strike up conversation. "This is indeed a momentous occasion. Not since the world was forced into chaos has Last Haste ever received a visitor from beyond the…well, beyond. I trust your travel was pleasant?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Forgive me, this must all seem very…primitive, to you," the man continued, a bit of edge to his voice. "But I can assure you, we here at the Western Kingdom of Last Haste hope to do everything in our power to make sure you are comfortable, Miss…?"

"Heyerdahl. Dr. Phoebe Heyerdahl."

"Hmm, yes. Well, doctor, I for one enthusiastically welcome the joining of our two worlds. Heaven knows we've lived in resplendent squalor for much, much too long."

"I only hope that my insight fuels your research."

"As do I, Dr. Heyerdahl, as do I. This way…"

The man opened the double doors with a great flourish and they both walked inside.

The football-headed boy broke a piece from the loaf of bread he swiped, and traversed down the hall in total awe. Miraculously, he had snuck past the royal guards, and was now within the inner sanctum of the kingdom.

He eventually found his way to the royal garden, and stopped and stared in curiosity at the young blonde girl dancing by herself. It was evident by her flowing movements that she took ballet, and if she was practicing, it certainly wasn't necessary. The boy stood at the entrance of the garden and watched her as she moved to and fro gracefully within the space. Only when she concluded did the boy clap, which finally alerted her to his presence. She gasped and froze in place.

"That was really beautiful," said the boy.

The blonde girl said nothing, eyeing him up and down suspiciously.

He took a step forward. "Are you…who I think you are…?"

The girl took a step back in response.

"My Grandpa told me stories about you…you're the Child Princess of Laste Haste, aren't you? You look about the same age as me."

Once again, the girl remained silent. Feeling a bit awkward with the one-sided conversation, the boy bent down and plucked a pink flower from the ground. He twirled it in his hand for a bit, opting to stare at the spinning petals than make eye contact.

"I like this flower," he said. "It's pretty, like your dress." He extended the hand with the flower, offering it as a gift.

The girl stared at the boy, then at the flower, then back at the boy. At first she didn't know what to make of the situation, but no one except Lady Bridget ever complimented her. In fact, up to that point in her life, she had NEVER been addressed by anyone outside the palace walls. Intrigued by this chance interaction, the girl outstretched her hand toward the gift of the flower.

"PRINCESS HELENA OF THE LAST HASTE, STOP RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

The girl recoiled away from the gift as though it were poisoned, and retreated away into the garden. The boy tried to follow her, but he was immediately spun around by Lady Bridget, who did not look at all pleased.

"And just what do you think you are doing on the royal grounds?"

The boy was flustered. "I…..I…"

"What's going on here?" Two royal guards in suits of armour appeared at the entrance of the garden, their weapons immediately unsheathed from their hilts. "You know its forbidden for outsiders to set foot in the Sacred Garden. Suppose he were to come in contact with Her Majesty! What is he doing in here?"

"Oh, uh…" Thinking on her feet, Lady Bridget pulled the loaf bread from under the boy's shirt and waved it for the guards to see. "This…servant was just bringing me a snack to present to the Princess. As Helena's personal ward, I can assure you that there would be no fraternizing with lesser folk on my watch. As you were."

The guards looked dubious at first, but then replaced their weapons back in the sheaths and carried on their way. When they were out of earshot, Lady Bridget let out a sigh of relief.

"Phew…that was a close one!" She noticed the boy was trying to tiptoe away, but she stopped him in his tracks. "Uh-uh – you know you're lucky it was me that spotted you first and not those two. Now, what on Earth do you think you're doing?"

"I was just saying hello," explained the football-headed boy. "I saw her dancing by herself, and I thought she could use a little company. It must be lonely being the only kid in this place."

Lady Bridget opened her mouth to speak, then thought against it. "Well, aren't you sweet. But now I think it's time for head home. I'll show you the way."

She grabbed his hand and led him out of the gardens. Before he left, the boy turned and looked into the garden one last time. For a split second, behind a large weeping willow tree, he spotted the Helena, the child princess, peering at him with heightened curiosity and interest.