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A ray of gust flushed shyly past the clinking window panes. Loitering, glittery brown eyes seeked out the mundane motion and some of the girl's hair stuffed her gaping mouth.
She spat them out, chucking them up with her small fingers.
Having lit up the fire under the grate, her trembling fingers shivered with eccentric dread. She could hardly believe she was doing this.
She was going to boil a frog! After sneaking out of their house for seven days in a row, she had found a sulky frog mourning for its squashed fellows.
Mia shook with delight, humming a soft tune as her socked feet hopped and snuggled around the furry carpet, adding more dry wood to the crackling warmth.
"Little, beauty, dear, fruits become near, don't make me sound loud and clear," sang her smiling lips, as the frog shrieked grumpily upon being brought closer to the flickering heat by the hand that squeezed around its fat, greasy neck.
A small pan hung over the heat, boiling water popping and sizzling, salivating with need, anticipating the frog anytime.
The frog didn't resist, but he - it, refused to persist. So it flapped down into the rustling water itself and its body bristled with bruises, the hotness like iced blankets enveloping him in a hot volcano.
Very uncomfortable, indeed. It wasn't a pleasant experience, to say the least.
It wasn't willing to give the little devil the satisfaction it was craving. But the flames singed him like hungry waves ready to drown him.
Something wasn't going right. Mia was able to tell. She pouted and adjusted the pan with a poker, poking it repeatedly which made the death waves undulate.
"Maybe I read the instructions wrong," she told herself after some moments of speculation and freed her body straight from the hunched pose.
Snatching a very humbling heavy journal from the kitchen counter right by the grate, her fingers skirred over the withering leafs and she found herself just getting more mystified with the intangible doodles.
She almost imagined it was just her father getting bored after some Church duty and doodling away in his journal in the staff room during lunch.
Nevertheless it wasn't exactly a staff room her father was assigned to. It was an abandoned store room meant for storing his... stuff away, was what he had told her before sucking his last breath.
Haunted room in a Church. Often when she tended the pews that were, before the Church was opened, always adorned with shoes, rags, or some leftover food they left as tributes, she heard resonating voices.
People didn't know how to be religious nowadays. They think God isn't watching them sinning right before him? He's watching every one of your movements, knows each one of your thoughts.
It always made her father shiver with terror.
Often she would hear clanking and sizzling behind the Church, and then there would be protesting screams, like spirits being set free.
But that was a normal occurence in the Church anyway.
Mia stopped at a page and licked the end before turning it over and finding a small note at the top left corner.
In bold letters, it read, although the ink was quite fading away:
'ADD VINeGAr tO the solution... salt for more pain. And don't let Lory find out... ugh my head hurts. Will putting in some flour work? Ghdhshtuhjds. Don't wanna live... LoRRyyyyyy'
Mia's heart bucked against her ribs. She crouched and opened a small cabinet where Lory put flour and... Where was vinegar?
"Die, will you? Oh Lavi, it's not dying. Mhngh. I hate this. I fed you my candies." She scolded the squeaking frog, using the air of an authoritative, guilt-tripping mother who just wouldn't let you live in peace even after making you count the number of guests in the living room.
Oh. This won't work out.
When footsteps caressing the fluffy grass drew closer, it was like electricity whirring up inside her and she quickly seized her notebook and pretended to solve math, in front of the smoky grate, in the same place where the frog was succumbing to a very, very unique death.
The footsteps were so gentle; they could be mistaken for white roses sinking into a reflecting pond.
A soft fat hand opened the aging door and wide eyes softened at the sight of the girl studying so diligently.
The frog was crying for help.
Lory smiled and trodded up to the counter and placed the heavy bags on the wet surface. "Well? What has my baby been up to?"
"I was studying, mommy!" Mia replied confidently, "But I can't seem to solve this one problem. I was going to ask you once you came back."
Lory crouched and Mia stood, concealing the view of what torture was going on behind her small body.
The mother wasn't stupid of course. She could see right through her child; it was the heir of Lace after all.
And she had known Lace like her tongue knew where the stuck food debris was between her teeth.
"What's my good girl hiding?" Squeezing Mia's clayey, blushing cheeks, Lory's smile broadened unnervingly, preying amber eyes smoothing into a narrow line.
Mia remembered her father's words.
'And don't let Lory find out...'
Lace knew, if Lory figured his late antics out, she'd plant rose beds right above his grave and probably sell his decaying skeleton to an alchemist, or whatever the science people were, Lace could care less.
Lory began nudging the young weight aside from the fireplace. "Hmm?" The hum wasn't a question. It was a final warning, a confirmation for the act of disobedience may result in doing all the garden work.
"I killed a frog, mommy," Mia smiled bashfully, fiddling with her fingers almost excitedly, deceiving naive eyes swivelling up at the face that was high above than hers.
Lory's eyes crinkled, "What a good girl. Telling mommy the truth." Though there was some reluctance, something choked inside and twisted, turned and maybe creaked.
A noisy gust fluttered the crisp black, yet greying tresses belonging to Lory.
For now, she decided to ignore the fact that the little happy girl was following in her father's footsteps... And tried to avoid the hovering feeling like a thundercloud telling her that she wouldn't be here long enough to see if the premonition would bloom into the truth.
Hugging the shaking girl, Lory cooed. "My girl."
-End of Reaction First