• Angelica walked quietly along the path, the shadow and light cast by the moon swathed her equally in a veil of raw beauty and mystery. Her tightly laced bodice caused her to continuously inhale small gasping breaths of the crisp night air. She had picked up the tresses of her skirt awhile ago and had eventually grown tired of the heavy fabric, letting the lilac satin fall and shift around her bare feet. The newly seeded grass was much softer than the minute pebbles she was treading on, but Angelica didn’t want to ruin the fresh grass. Her brother worked so hard to make sure that the gardens and pathways were kept tidy and neat for the pleasure and entertainment of his 3 little sisters.
    This current path was constructed just for Angelica—it started back by the hidden stairs descending from her balcony. The only way to enter the pathway was to enter from those stairs, to do that you had to open the 6-foot stainless steel gates crafted in the shape of a giant butterfly that opened in the middle. Then there was a path made of crushed pebbles, what Angelica called ‘moon dust’. This path was designed for one person to walk along, lined with little trees from Japan that were called ‘cherry blossom’ trees. And for a certain time during the year those green leaves vanished and were replaced with bright, joyous flowers the color of babies lips. Lining those two lines of trees was a 4-foot fence also constructed of the new stainless steel and past those fences was an expanse of a hidden field and small forest, owned by her parents, inherited to their children. Angelica loved her hidden path, walking along almost every evening during the spring, summer through fall and most of winter until the heavy snow prevented her. Sometimes she walked with her sleek greyhound, Magnolia, and sometimes just with a parasol and book. The entire family knew of the pathway, and could see it from their winter dining hall, but no one used it because they knew it was hers.
    Now in late spring, the baby-lip-pink blossoms beginning to fall from their branches, the night air was cooler than Angelica was prepared for. Even in her half length lilac satin sleeves, lace under-sleeves and petticoats Angelica felt the cool from the inside out. Her almost silver hair rested like a shawl on her shoulders, covering the exposed tops of her shoulders and delicate collarbone. Her skin was almost as white as fresh winter snow, but it glimmered with life like the surface of the sun. Angelica walked with unearthly grace, her arms crossed loosely by her hips with her white, lace gloves covering her long slender fingers apt for the piano forte positioned in her room. The train of her purple evening gown almost floated above the moon dust path and remained unsullied. The white ribbon once tied in a stiff, neat bow at the curve of her back had now lost its form and lay limp against the severely forced curve of her back.
    It was late, and only the candles from Angelica’s empty room showed signs of life in the estates marble palace. Angelica quickened her delicate footfalls, beginning to shiver as a cool breeze billowed her skirts and whisked her hair off her shoulders. Her pale shoulders were quickly covered with commoner’s gooseflesh: royalty should never become so cold. She sucked in a breath of cool air, her lungs expanding in limited quarters under the boning of her finest bodice. Angelica now desperately wanted to escape the confines of the dress, release the daytime lacings of her high blood standards and be free to breathe deeply. A young blossom fell from its branch and fluttered down in front of Angelica, landing silently in her direct path. Instead of stepping on it and paying it no mind at all, Angelica stopped and tilted her head down and her bright blue eyes swept towards the fallen blossom. She knelt down like a gentle lady, her back straight and shoulders back and didn’t bother to tuck her luscious hair behind her ears as it spilled over her shoulders when she tilted her head down. She scooped up the blossom like it was a wounded baby sparrow, cradling it against border between the lace top of her box cut bodice and delicately swelled tops of her pale breasts. She stood up carefully and quietly, never taking her eyes off the raw, delicate beauty of the baby blossom.
    She couldn’t help but feel her heart lurch at the sight, and only someone like her would have tears in her eyes when finding a fallen blossom. The pink was almost too faint, and the blossom looked white compared to the numerous fallen, grown blossoms that lay scattered on the surrounding grass and path. It almost matched with Angelica’s skin. The center was a darker pink, but just barely and underneath the pale pink petals were three tiny green leaves, giving support and helping shape the young bloom.
    “Such a young, delicate little thing not even in complete bloom…it saddens me to know that it will never reach its full potential. Never match and even outshine the beauty of its brothers and sisters.” Angelica’s voice was barely trembling above a whisper; it wouldn’t have woken a sleeping mouse if it was cradled in her hands instead of the blossom. Her quiet voice was dripping with sorrow that was felt from her heart and her caged soul. She smiled sympathetically at the little blossom, her rosebud lips pressed in a thin trembling line. A single, silver-tinted tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trailed lazily diagonally down the expanse of her pale right cheek. It just rubbed past the corner of her sad smile before continuing its path down to her chin. There it hung precariously for a few moments, shining like a star in the moonlight before it released its water hold and plummeted down: landing safely and soundly on a soft petal of the cradled blossom. It didn’t break, just sat there as a perfect little drop of salt water. Angelica was blown away by the magnified beauty of the little pale pink blossom, and now the silver-tinted tear. She forgot about her shoulders covered in gooseflesh, ignoring the breeze that tugged at the tresses of her skirts and froze her thin, bare ankles. Something magical settled like a worn blanket around her, draping over her beating heart and forming to the organ like a second skin. It caused her heart to beat against her cold ribs like the wings of a wild sparrow against its cage.
    For some time Angelica stood there, entranced by the little blossom and little tear. Her sad smile never even faltered when the invisible night clouds released a warm breeze that plucked the little blossom out of her grasp. The pale pink petals then cradled the little silver tear as the breeze carried it out of sight, rising past its deep pink brothers and sisters. The moonlight illuminated its unknown path for a few more fleeting seconds before it vanished, undistinguishable from the pale stars.
    Angelica stood there, her lace covered hands falling to her sides, brushing the soft satin and silk trimmings. She lifted her chin to the moon and stars, smiling broadly and letting her blue eyes close for a few more moments. Little silver tears streaming from the corners of her black lashes, turning her cheeks a tremendously pale silver. Another warm breeze was released, stronger this time. It caused a million blossoms to fly from their branches, pale pink ones and deep pink ones. Angelica’s almost silver hair lifted silently around her shoulders and head, twisting and curling like streamers from festivals. Some strands turned complete silver under the moonlight while other stayed the simple almost silver. Her dress fluttered in the wind, the train sweeping around her ankles and trying to break free. The limp white bow came untied completely, falling loose and unwrapping from her delicate waist before flying free, skimming over the moon dust path and taking off like a swan into the crisp spring night. The blossoms mingled with her almost silver hair, whipping carefully around her silver stained face. That very moment Angelica’s skin began to glow like something from the imagination. It began to glow like the pale glowing stars, her almost snow white complexion became whiter than the freshest snow and glowed brighter than it ever would. She lifted her arms just a little, allowing her long hair to tangle elegantly around her elbows, tickling her gently.
    All the shadows disappeared from the path, the moon directing all its light towards the young, forcefully betrothed princess. With that direct light it loosened her lacings, allowed her lungs to expand to their fullest and unlocked the cage that held her wild soul and heart against their will. Her silver tears didn’t fall down her face anymore; they defied gravity and lifted up from her eyes. Moving upwards, soaring towards the moon and stars. Her tears turned into stars themselves, the silver in them outshining the pale stars. Angelica opened her eyes just for a moment to watch her tears turn into stars; she breathed a sigh and then…vanished.