The Ballad of Mona Lisa {ON HOLD}

Prologue- Shots in the Night

~Third Person~

"I'm gonna get you, Momma!" The five-year-old's voice rang out clear in the open field, and Annabelle Abernathy looked behind her to see her daughter running after her. Annabelle squealed and pretended to act scared, before running through the field. She pretended as if she was running for her life, using her daughter's squeals of laughter to keep her going despite her burning legs and protesting lungs. Annabelle had been running around with her child for an hour now, and let's just say, her child had more endurance for running than she did. She could hear her daughter's laughter growing closer, and in a few moments, she heard her child's "battle cry". There was a sudden weight on her back, sending both mother and daughter sprawling to the ground.

"Oh no, you got me!" Annabelle cried, and her daughter squealed with laughter. "Oh, Mona Lisa, get off so I can get up."

"Okay, Momma," her daughter, Mona Lisa, said, quickly getting off of her mother. Annabelle flipped herself over and sat up, only to grab her daughter and start tickling her. Mona Lisa screamed with laughter, telling her mother to stop. Annabelle knew, however, that Mona Lisa didn't really want her to stop. She loved being tickled, and Annabelle knew it. That being said, Annabelle did eventually stop when Mona Lisa struggled to breathe from laughing so hard. Mona Lisa quickly got her revenge by tickling her mother, and while Annabelle would never tell her daughter this, the child's tickles were rather weak. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"

"Oh, no, not the tickles!" Annabelle cried, knowing that would make her daughter happy. It did exactly as it was supposed to, and Mona Lisa smiled and laughed, making Annabelle laugh with her. Eventually, Annabelle checked her watch and saw that it was time for them both to go in. Mona Lisa frowned, and her entire look changed to reflect her sadness at having to go inside. Annabelle ignored her daughter's protests and easily picked up her child, walking towards the little house that Annabelle, Mona Lisa, and the man of the house, Charles, lived in. Charles smiled once his wife and daughter entered the house, and Annabelle let Mona Lisa down, who immediately ran into her father's open arms. He picked Mona Lisa up and took her into the kitchen, where Annabelle knew a burnt something was waiting. Annabelle was definitely the cook in the family, no matter how hard Charles tried to prove her wrong. Annabelle followed the pair, to find that she was right.

"Daddy, are cookies supposed to black?" Mona Lisa asked innocently, and Annabelle started to laugh. No, they most certainly are not. Charles said that they were if they were chocolate, and Mona Lisa scrunched her nose. "No, Daddy, chocolate cookies are brown, not black. Momma's cookies aren't black."

"Yeah, yeah, Momma's cooking is much better than mine," Charles admitted, and Annabelle put her hand on his shoulder before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's right, it is. But you know I love cooking for you and Mona," Annabelle said, using the nickname for her daughter. "Now, would you mind getting out of the kitchen while I make supper? Don't want you accidentally burning anything."

"Fine. Let's go, Mona!" Charles said, but Mona Lisa squirmed, trying to be let down.

"I wanna help Momma make supper!"

"But you heard-"

"No, Charlie, baby, I told you to get out of the kitchen. I didn't say anything about Mona here. I would love Mona Lisa's help," Annabelle clarified, and Mona Lisa laughed, running over to her mother.

"I see how it is. The women are conspiring against me!" Charles cried, walking out of the kitchen dramatically.

"Momma, what does con-spi-ring mean?" Mona Lisa asked, and Annabelle began to explain while she got out the pots and pans for supper that night. She was making Mona Lisa's favorite: spaghetti and meat sauce. Mona Lisa saw Annabelle get the noodles out, and promptly squealed. "Sketti and meat sauce!" Annabelle smiled at Mona Lisa's mispronunciation of "spaghetti", and started to fill the pot with water to boil. Mona Lisa protested, saying she wanted to put the water in the pot. Annabelle knew that the five-year-old could never, ever lift the pot of water. Instead, after the pot was halfway filled, she let Mona Lisa take a cup of water and fill it up, pouring it into the pot until it was full. As they waited for the water to boil, Annabelle added some vegetable oil to make sure the noodles didn't stick, and Mona Lisa insisted on adding just a touch of salt. Annabelle knew how long it would take for the water to boil, and she decided to bring up something that she and Charles had been meaning to ask Mona Lisa about for a long time.