The innocent petite miss cut through the frosty breeze, falling three times. She now had black and blue knees. The cardigan which her grandma had stitched was then with threads dangling and mud-kissed. The haste made her drop her currency coins as well, Least bothered, she had other griefs to quell. While carrying the self-made cake embedded with raisins- soaked in rum, the breeze shoved up her nostrils; every pant made her more numb. “Oh! L’il girl where do you head?”, Was everyone’s cry. She paid no heed to the enquiring passers-by, “You’ll come down with cold!”, prompted one, “Where are thy guardians?”, Cried a nun! On the quest she dropped a note referenced to her dad, and was reluctantly picked up by a pedestrian- a timid lad. ‘My daddy, my hero, happy birthday to you. Mama said you’ll come soon home with lots of presents, chocolates and pomes. She said you’ll plant a warm kiss on my cheek and embrace me and wet my eyes gone so bleak. I want to confess to you the sweets I ate, the menace I cause, the tension I create. Daddy, I’m now in my fifth grade, hope you love the cake I made.
She, finally, entered a huge rusty gate to a park. The Sun had set and it was about to get dark. The naive miss searched here and there, and finally found a name so rare. She ran to the tomb and fell on her knees, quivering and frozen, at last appeased. The cemetery was cold, horrid and mum. The buried were silent, indefinitely numb. She placed the cake amidst the bright red flowers, stood up to orate the speech she had rehearsed for hours. After exploring her pockets she realized, It had been dropped on the path that was iced. Dismayed and broken she let out a sigh, and left the yard with a forlorn cry- 'I heard the neighbours lie about you, ‘You’re dead’, discussed a few. "Wake up daddy and show me scorn, I still cannot tie my shoelaces on my own..'