• Her raven colored dark ringlets that danced and shimmered when she laughed and that gorgeous smile that could make a room full of people shine brighter than a thousand candles; gone. Those deep inquisitive brown eyes that sucked you in and the rose petal lips that you would swear were the color of cotton candy; gone. The way she loved to dance whenever rain poured down and the endearing kisses she would blow when she saw her family; gone. All of it was gone. She was sucked away by the life of cold dark rooms, painful injections and a throng of mournful visitors whom were nameless to her.

    One year. It has, so far been one tantalizing year, torturing us and mocking what once seemed so adorable. Her family cannot go a day without seeing the shadow of her death in her most beloved of possessions. She loves Dora. You know, the little girl who runs around a non-existent land asking for help from kids who want to be her best friend; it's because she is a brave explorer. Or I guess I should say loved now that she is no longer. It has been a year, to this exact day actually and yet we still remember. Those who only knew of her got over the grief and it has long since crossed their minds but we, the breathers who gave their everything to the little angel and expected only peace comfort and joy really got nothing. Many cried on this day, last year, sobbing for the girl whose life was so small, but as days past the girl was all but forgotten, after all they were alive and she wasn't. They still had their lives to live, and did she? What could they do to help her now?

    A small headache. That's how this story really should start. Just a minuscule headache in the back of little Sophia Langford's head that refused to stop nagging her. It was almost like the tiny elf that kept her head working, wanted to hug her brain. At the time she knew very little about the world and so thought nothing of the pinch, for she was only a child of two. Her birthday had been an event of great joy and she was possessed great joy in knowing that her parents loved her so. Whenever the loving guardians had the chance, they would smother her in their love, telling her stories of great dreams and beautiful places that were sparkling in her mind's eye; she so envied these young heroines who got to visit the magical kingdoms and ride on horses who could fly. They would recall stories they heard in their youth; the ones that were passed round the great big world although she rarely paid attention even though she knew she should.

    What she really loved, the thing that made her so very happy that she felt she was filled with a thousand bubbles, dancing. Her kingdom, like those in the mystical tales, was full of colors spinning round and round, the fairy dust never settling; where her loyal subjects would merrily twirl with her as she bounced and whirled. They were her friends even though no one really knew another's name but in this time they couldn't care less; as long as the music was loud and the melody was bright, it was fine.