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Lily lay on her bed with teary blue eyes. Her scarlet hair covered her face as she cried.
Rose, her only family-like figure had been murdered.
She sobbed, recalling the now heartbreaking memories of their moments together, they were friends, they were sisters.
She thought back to how they'd paint together, how Rose would lightly stroke the canvas with her paintbrush illustrating magnificent arts all including the beauties of nature.
Lily gave a slight smile as she remembered how clumsy Rose could be, despite her elegance and grace in art, she was a total clutz.
Rose was bold, brave and confident contrasted with kind, caring and gentle.
The best part about her was her passion for freedom, equality, justice - simply a better world where everyone would be treated fairly.
To others, her dream seemed fantasy but to Lily, it was possible. As long as Rose believed in herself, she would believe in her too.
But now, the passion, the hope, the faith, it had all perished along with Rose. Lily felt empty, deserted, broken.
There was a knock on her door, Lily sighed, wiping her tears with her sleeve, "Who could it be this late?" She mumbled to herself.
She unlocked the door. Nobody, just pitch black darkness. A cold gust of wind blew in and she shivered.
Just then she saw a blue water lily on her doormat, a small folded piece of paper beside it.
She picked up the note and read it.
To thy teary blue lily.
Come to the pond at 11 pm tomorrow.
You won't regret it.
Lily chuckled at the irony, "Tears of a blue lily, hm? I'll be there."
* * *
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