She as far as she could out of the front door, framed with rickety wood coated in chipping crimson paint. She frowned, blinked a few times, then turned around to look at her mother's kind face. Whereas Ophelia's expression was one of dismay and anxiety, her mother's eyes were full of reassuring and comforting joy that put her at ease.
"Do I have to go?" she pleaded.
"You want me to say no but you know I'm going to say yes." replied her mother. "You have to do this."
"That makes me want to do it even less," she answered, and tear like pearls streamed down her pale cheeks.
Surprisingly, her mother simply brushed them off of her face with her hand and directed her out of the door with a stern authority and didn't say another word.
Cautiously, Ophelia walked down the path strewn with weeds and roses choked by thistles. It wasn't a picturesque way of travel, but she knew it would improve as she progressed. At least she hoped so.
Then with no rhyme nor reason, Ophelia was faced with a disgusting man with yellowing teeth- no, yellow teeth- and masses of greasy, lank hair that drooped infront of his lined visage. He leered at her unnervingly and said....

"Missus Ophelia?" His voice croaked with an undistinguishible tone.

She looked at him and back to her house biting her lip unsure as her mom closed the door. She turned and slowly nodded looking back to the broken old man, and then pass to the carriage that was waiting for her.

"Thought i was him to take ye child?" the chuckle was amused and a bit cynical. "Nay child, you are not one that i could ever have" he clucked and walked to open the door.

His suprisingly firm hand helped her up and she sat into the plush seat. Hearing the creaking as he climbed to the top and felt the jerk as it lunged forward, the horses settling into a smooth trot. She cluched the beaded bag tight against her neck breathing deeply to sooth her nerves, tears still rolling down her cheek.

"is it true that you are what you are" Ophelia said eventually, barely being able to push the words out from her mouth.

"what most have said are true, but not all words are to be taken literally"

"but why can't momy come with me? she knows all what's going...."

"NO!. i'm sorry, but she has her own place and time, which she served. you must know that your mother loves you very much and that she regreted this day for many years."

Ophelia sat in the buggy, looking at the various trees and brush that laid along the road sides. was this the man that claimed to be her father. was this the one that left many years ago.

and if so where was he taking her??

her mind raged with questions as she sat in the dark carriage.
Questions which, if asked , she knew would only lead to more cryptic comments to further enforce her apprehension, or worse perhaps, they could lead to the truth.
Sitting alone in the rocking carriage, but for the elderly servent belonging to her father, Ophilias fear abated somewhat.
As her troubled spirit eased she began to wonder about her father himself. Her knowlege of him was limited, that he was a gentleman of standing was evident, certainly the carraige was worked to a level of finery such as she had not oft experienced.
She remembered hearing her mother had won her father's affection, but him being already married had fled with her unborn growing inside her. Ophilia had never truely contemplated the mystery of her fathers absence, given to a somewhat languid and fey disposition she lived more in fantasy than reality. The subject had never been broached with her and what scant knowlege she had of him was mearly what she had overheard from the cook and maid talking on those half forgotten evenings when sleep eluded her and she moved in her secret world of imagination through the shadows of the old farmhouse that was home.
And now for the first time she truely wondered what he was like. The barren landscape continued to darken as the evening lengthened and the carriage passed through only occasionally startling a wild bird into flight.
Ophilia brooded about her father and why now he could so suddenly have taken the desire to find and take his lost daughter as his ward.What, she wondered, would happen to her??

He paced heatedly in front of the fireplace, his storm grey eyes constantly looking at the clock.

"They should be here by now!" He bellowed to the abundant female laying languidly on the crushed velvet loveseat sipping wine from a silver goblet. The pale skin and soft white gown giving her an ethereal glow.

"My love, you know how slow he is, that horse he insists on using, they'll be here" She looked unexcited at the thought of sharing him and his extravagent fortune. "Besides, what would some little peasant know of timing?" she said poutingly.

He looked at her the grey eyes shifting dangerously dark. "She is my daughter, and you will treat her as such, i may not have been able to keep her mother last time, but i won't let another woman keep me from her" His tone was cruel and dismissing. "Don't forget what happened to your predecessor."

"Go get dressed" he looked at the half naked display that rolled large, brightly painted blue eyes.

"As you wish love" her condenscending tone made him turn away even more enraged. "Be gone whore!" he said softly, strained with control, his eyes burrowing into the fire watching the demons dance there. Nothing would stop him once he had her.

His guest stood up insulted and grabbed up her top. "You're a bastard, I don't know why i tolerate this from you!" she said in a huff.

"Because I pay you well, and keep you from my men, unless you want to give them a go again, remember as long as i own this."

He held up a yellowed parchment of paper with a flourished signature across the bottom, the once bright red now a deep brown.

"You will do as i wish." He smiled with an evil gleem in his eyes and held out his hand watching the sheet disappear in a thin tendril of smoke.

The girl vanished as quickly as the smoke, a faint smell of rose in the air.

"We are here." The moon had know rose high into the sky and was kissing the young child with her light. The man picked up her bags and truck and took them into the house. Ophelia remained in the buggy for a bit. Why was she here? What was the purpose for all of this? She knew that something great was about to happen but she had no idea of what extent it would.

"My dear my dear." The man with the gray eyes was standing in the door, "how long i have waited to see you my child."

"But your not my father, are you?" Ophelia felt the truth suddenly rise up into her from her toes, to her head. A glance at the man seemed to bring up all of it. The past, the present, and some bit of the future, yet to vauge to be made out as future.

"So you are the great Jullian, my father," she said stepping out of the buggy and over to the door. "And you are so much more than that."

"My dear, why shall we bother with these little things. You are my daughter, my first. There is so much i wish to ask you."

"So Jullian, are you going to tell her the truth or are you going to leave the poor girl in a darkness. Well, you will be giving her a new one by telling her i guess. Lose lose situation if you ask me." The whore was leaning against a tree, her red dress flowing in the wind.

"Shut up you whore of Babylon. You are one of my sadest choices. Leave me. I will summon you when i wish to waste my time with flesh again. Leave," The whore was offened. She vanished into a cloud of smoke like she had before.

"Father, do you really need to indulge that bad. Do you really need to be this sorrowful about things. I am here now, and we will rule i feel. But you must first admit what you are to me?"

"Your power is great allready, with very little training." The man walked out into the moon light with his daughter. "My dear, i am Juliina, the..."

(out of story) someone take over from right were i left off, it will be great.

"...Storm, the Ironhand, the Powerful." He clenched a fist and held it in the air. "I am the tie that forever holds. But, child..."

He stopped and seemed to almost lower himself to her level. "Am I your father? What is that but an abstract idea."

"Why I consider it a most grounded question!" Ophelia was beginning to feel helpless. "And your lack of candor is not only very distressing for me, especially considering what I have been through tonight already, but it is also quite rude. Now tell me if I am of your blood!"

The man smiled and Ophelia saw a warm glow behind his eyes.

"Yes," he said. "It is true."

Instead of feeling the lightness that usually followed relief, Ophelia was suddenly overcome by a heaviness in her body and soul. She was tired and needed to sleep.

That was when Ophelia noticed another person standing at the door of the building. And this person did not look as if they were welcoming her.