Kissed By An Angel.

"Get your head out of the clouds."

Emily was a normal teen. That was, until the day in London. She was visiting her Papa, whom she rarely saw since the divorce. Her Mum lived in England, far away. But her and Papa still got to visit.

Emily was glad, except that Papa had married "The Devil." The worst woman imaginable. She was strict, had her brown curls ALWAYS in a bun, and had a no-nonsense attitude. The devil, or Agatha, did not take Emily's adventuring to heart.

She enrolled Emily in only the most prestigious manner classes over the summers Emily was allowed to visit. But Emily wouldn't let her ruin her time with Papa. No sir!

Whether dirtying her newest dress, soiling her silk gloves, or losing her umbrella- Agatha always complained of Emily's un-ladylike manner. Good thing she never saw Emily with Mum.

Luckily Mum was not NEARLY as strict. Mum was quite the sweetest maiden for afar. No one dared question it. Mum has strawberry blonde hair, with usually stayed in a braid, but was sometimes quite a bit of fun.

Once, Emily did Mums hair for a job interview- and everyone adored it. Emily tried this with Agatha. But agatha had to ruin it all! Once, Agatha caught Emily in the master bath, oh boy! Was she mad.

Agatha would not rest until Papa punished Emily. Papa wasn't too bad though. He simply slapped Emily's fragile, piano hand and went about his business. It didn't hurt much, but it did put a toll on Emily's heart that he would dare resort to such a petty thing.

Papa wore little, thin glasses which lay on the bridge of his nose. Like Emily, Papa had freckles and green, emerald eyes. A rare thing in the family. Yet, unlike Emily- Papa had chestnut, hair, which was always loose and shaggy. As though someone had run their hands through his hair.

How much Emily wondered Agatha could stand it! Emily always had her blonde locks in a half-up, half-down up do, less of course- there be a special occasion. Emily, like her Papa was tall and lean, with a snake frame.

Emily certainly wasn't one for getting her hands dirty. Not literally of course, she didn't mind the outdoors, and she quite adored the quiet calm of nature. Instead of fighting, Emily rather pleased her loneliness with the most beautiful grand piano she has ever had.

Emily received the piano at age five, for her birthday. Yet she had no interest until year seven. The bench had velvet cushioning, and no matter the circumstances- the polished casing always shines.

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Upon arriving at her Papas, Emily sat lady-like in the the parlor waiting room. She sat at a chess board and played by herself. Not much fun, mind you.

But she was tired from the trip. As much so as a white rabbit in harsh winters. Have her Papa come in, she knew she'd curl up at his feet and cuddle them like a puppy until sleep.

Yet instead of her Papa a young man about her age entered. He was tall, dark, and definitely handsome. He met Emily's gaze, causing her cheeks to flush. He caught her gawking! How un-ladylike! Agatha would be in tears by now.

He simply bowed. Although Emily had never met him: she judged him to be a worker. However improper to acknowledge a worker, or any lesser, she stood.

With a slight smile she bent her head down a bit, tossing her locks, and curtsying. She bent low: perhaps too low- for she stumbled over the hem of her outer dress skirt.

She figured the man to be in tears of laughter but much to her surprise, he simply tossed a shoulder up in a half-hearted shrug and way of dismissal. And then he simply left, leaving her to the chess set.