The Lovely Lily

It was a dreary day of mist and rain on the cold streets of London. I had just finished up my work for the day, long hours of filing had made my eyes weary and tired. I shuffled along the cobbled sidewalk down the road when I rain into a familiar figure. The neighbor of my childhood home, Madam Acosta.

I remember her being such a lovely, young and vibrant soul. Age has withered her joyous attitude into a more calm, cool melancholy. She had lost her husband a few years back, and she never had any children. Perhaps that is why she was so fond of all the children in the neighborhood, always inviting us over for tea and biscuits.

Our passing gazes met, and her face lit up with that familiar infectious joy I was so fond of in the old widow. She quickly rushed to my side eager to speak to me.

"Irvin! My goodness is that really you?" she exclaimed as she excitedly reached her gloved hands out towards mine which was covered in ink stains. "Oh look at how you have grown! I hardly recognized you at first, such a fine young man you've become!"

"Thank you, Madam Acosta. It's wonderful to see you as well, how are things fairing back home? How are my mother and father? I haven't been able to visit them as of late. Work has kept me terribly busy."

"They are doing just fine. Bright and as happy as ever, and pleased that you found such a reputable job."

"That's good to hear, what are you doing in this part of the city Madam Acosta?" She had not been known to travel far from her home. I found it strange she would be in such a part of the city.

"Me? Well, I was out to go buy a dress for my daughter. You ought to meet her! She is such a lovely thing. Though she is quite shy, and hardly has the constitution or bravery to leave the manor."

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter madam."

"Oh, yes! It was very strange indeed but it has been such a joy!"

"Strange?"

"Well you know my husband and I never had any children while he lived. There was nothing more I desired than a child to call my own. I've been alone now for years after Julien's death. I prayed and prayed to have a child one way or another. Yet I was well past my years to be of much use remarrying. I was alone, old, miserable widow. I pray you never have to meet the same fate my dear. But-" she clapped her hands together-"I distract myself from my tale! Now I had prayed for a long time to God to grant me a child. My wishes were dashed and I was sad and miserable. One day however a miracle appeared before me. On a dark and dreary, cold night, suddenly I heard a strange noise in my garden and there I found my sweet little Lily, I call here that for those were the flowers she was floundering in. The girl could hardly walk, and she spoke little. What words she did manage to say why I hardly understood her!"

"She sprung up from the garden?" How absurd! The idea of a child rising from a garden is something of a strange fairytale. Though I was beginning to form some suspicions about these odd circumstances. Madam Acosta was delusional at best, and completely mad at worst, and I feared for the worst.

"Well, where else could she have come from?"

I was worried about this woman. It was clear her good senses had left her, and this bumbling girl she described was clearly a thief, draining all that was left of this poor lonely woman. What devilish being, and in the guise and frame of a young girl. All the more deplorable a crime.

"Madam Acosta," I said taking a deep breath, "are you sure she did not perhaps break-in?"

"Lily? Oh good heavens no. The girl could hardly walk amongst the garden, it would be quite impossible for her to climb those walls I imagine. My Lily is not fit for such excitement. She usually contents herself in reading all day."