So.... this isn't the fanfiction, BUT I will be working on it once finals are done! I have exactly one week left, so yay! I do have summer school, but I should be able to find time to write. So, without further ado, Enjoy.

[This is just a preview of the first chapter... I already have 3 done, but I need to edit them... along with the rest of chapter one.]

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Her fingers slipped through cracks, as she traced her fingernails between them. She fiddled her thumb nail on the fragile music box and spun the bronze twig to start the soft, rhythmic melody.

[Starts at 10 seconds https://youtu.be/Ng7ZcMlNRlQ]

She spun around in the air, dancing to the melody of her childhood. A rush of hatred and joy filled her deathly sorrow spirit. Each chime reminded her of the sweet memories of life…

A little girl the age of 6, running through the redwoods with her, amber curls bouncing with every step. She found herself lost in the woods, Normally a little girl would be frightened by the images of the trees tangled up, making a monster like figure, though she was different. She pulled out the music box out of her white coat. To Alice, my sweet darling, Happy 3rd Birthday!~ was engraved on the music box. Inside was a silhouette of a woman with her daughter dancing. The young girl slowly walked over to a stump and spun the twig on the box, then waited, only being accompanied with the soft melodic chime.

Then, a young girl of 10 tracing her fingers on the violet tulips in the garden. The sleek and shiny stem was laced with thin veins gave the girl a sense of peace for some unknown reason. “Alice, where are you?” A woman called. The little girl stared at the violet, and took in the natural honey smell. “Alice? Darling where are you?” She called again. She stared down at the petals, now rubbing the smooth fabric between her thin, nimble fingers . A shadow peered over her. She let go of the flower and ran to the other side of the garden. She tried not to look back, knowing that that glimpse of the woman, was only a mere figment of her imagination.

Then a young teen of 14, followed the boy of 17, hoping he would notice her. Not in the sense of a romantic tone, yet in the sense where she could tell him anything and he would listen. She needed a friend. Though, there was no one around anymore. Her mother had died when she was barely four, and her father abandoned her when she was five in the redwood forest. She had no more siblings or relatives, so this might have been her last chance. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she was suddenly surprised when the boy turned around abruptly. She looked at him with wide open eyes. “Who are you?” The boy asked with a sympathetic tone, though a bit shaken.