It was a clear, brilliant August night. The stars above swiveled and swirled and twirled into dazzling crystal patterns at Great - Uncle Paul's extravagant lake house in Stowe, Vermont. A fire burned in the front yard, where teenagers exchanged ghost stories. And a tent was up in the valley as one large, newly joined family danced and sang in happiness.

Down by the lake and the dock and such, Cynthia Rose, eight years of age, sat, looking at the brilliant patterns the moon and stars made over the water. She wanted to be happy, she really did. She wanted to dance, and sing, and roast marshmallows and eat wedding cake with her sister - she was, after all, the flower girl. But she couldn't. A sadness had swallowed her heart, two years ago, and even in the midst of a party, poor, young Cynthia knew no happiness.

>Flashback<

'Please daddy please!' A younger Cynthia begged her father. But the man shook his head down at her.
'It's storming out there, Cynthia. There's even talk of it being a Category One hurricane! It wouldn't be safe.
'But I want ice cream! The six year old whined. Cynthia's father, a man by the name of Taylor, looked to his wife
'Amelia......' An average height woman with frizzy brown hair and warm, chocolatey eyes sighed. 'Fine, fine. Somebody grab Courtney - we best be on our way.
In the car, Cynthia rocked her seat side to side, humming a song she had heard on the radio. She watched the Lightning, bold and blue, flash across the endless grey. Beautiful. Her small, hazel eyes were fixed on the sight, and she barely noticed Taylor, Amelia, and Courtney get into the car until she heard her father shout, 'ICE CREAM TIME!' Then, she clapped and cheered.
Too busy watching the lighting to notice, Cynthia wasn't aware anything was happening. She didn't see the two pine trees, taller than her house, coming down on her as though in slow motion. She didn't hear the way her mother screamed, didn't feel it when her father jerked the car sideways. She was so focused on the show above, she was only aware of the real world again when she felt the crushing weight of a tree on her back, breaking her spine. She noticed the silence around her and dimly lifted her head, looking around. But the effort was tiring. So Cynthia put her head down, and went to sleep......
Taylor and Amelia Matteo were dead. Cynthia and Courtney were staying with their third foster family, Eleanor and Charlie Potter. Nobody, not even Courtney, blamed Cynthia for what had happened. But the problem was that Cynthia blamed herself. Now wheelchair bound, Cynthia considered herself to be the reason for what had happened everyday. She didn't even bother trying to walk, for she felt that this was her punishment. She deserved what she got.
A tear trickled down Cynthia's face as she continued her staring contest with the water. Yet suddenly, her vision lit up. A green light hovered and buzzed in the air in front of her, making Cynthia giggle for the first time in four years . She reached out to grab it, but it hovered away from her, onto the dock.
Cynthia wasn't allowed on the dock because of her wheel chair - if she fell in, she couldn't get out. But what if she didn't have he wheel chair?
Cynthia looked behind her, but everyone was too busy with the wedding to notice her. With trembling fingers, Cynthia undid the buckle that held her into the wheel chair. And slowly, shaking more than ever, Cynthia stood on her brown legs, blue from the moonlight, pale from lack of use.
She took a step forward and immediately began to fall. The wind's brittle fingers wrapped itself around her, placing her back on her feet. And so Cynthia tried again, lightly, with a spark of confidence burning in her heart as she took a single, fragile step. And then another. Another. And yet another, until, with fingers outstretched, Cynthia's small fingers brushed the greenish glow from the firefly. Her hand was just about to close around it when the firefly drifted in the opposite direction, and Cynthia promptly face - planted in the lake.
The water was surprisingly warm and inviting on Cynthia's skin, and the sand was soft as silk as Cynthia kicked off the ground with all she had, and stumbled back on to the the dock, shivering. She glared at the firefly.
"Thanks for that." She said, brushing her now sopping dark brown curls out of her face. The firefly hummed in what Cynthia could've sworn was amusement. As she went to take another step, the clever insect traveled another pace away from her.
"Hey!" Cynthia called, and started to speed up. So did the firefly. Soon enough, Cynthia was running blindly into the forest, her bare feet crunching on leaves, her swinging arms scarring on thorns. But she didn't care, for she was free. Like a fox escaped from its cage, she bolted over rocks, dove under logs, digging through trees until finally, she came across a clearing and gasped at the sight.
   It was a meadow. Each blade of grass was a shade of emerald green or fool's gold or moonbeam silver, traveling all the way up to her shoulder. Roses on vines dangled off of trees, creating a canopy in which only a single moonbeam could seep through. Wild flowers grew at random, and the wind placed one in her hand - a single daisy, which, ironically, Cynthia tucked behind her ear. Hundreds of fireflies danced in the sky above, replacing the stars with their performance. Cynthia danced with them, more alive than she had been in two years time. She twirled as though she hadn't a care in the world, her simple, mint green dress flowing around her. She shut her eyes, taking it all in. Suddenly, her foot squashed on something. She looked down to see a spring. The water was crystal clear, and fool's gold covered the bottom. A single lily floated over the water. Cynthia gently place the daisy in her braid, and tucked the Lily behind her ear. Suddenly, she had an idea. Grabbing all the flowers she could find, she quickly undid and redid her braid, carefully weaving flowers into it. Not wanting the remaining flowers to go to waist, she made a flower crown and placed it on top of her head.
  "I hereby declare myself queen of the meadow!" Cynthia shouted gleefully as she went back to dancing. As the woodland creatures gradually entered the field, and fiddle music hummed in her head, Cynthia wondered, is this a dream? But it couldn't be. No dream felt this real. So she closed her eyes, and continued to dance like she'd never danced before. She twirled through the night, alone except for the company of animals, not caring who or what saw her. Suddenly, she felt warm hands cover her eyes.
"Boo." A deep, familiar voice whispered. Cynthia turned around to see her pale mother, smiling down at her.
"Mom!" She cried, and embraced her mother. Relishing in the feeling of her mother's arms around her.
"Oh, so am I chopped liver?" Another familiar voice whispered in her ear.
"Daddy!" She yelled gleefully, pulling him into the embrace. And then Cynthia frowned, and pulled away.
"What's wrong, dear?" Amelia asked, bending down to her daughter's level.
"Well I mean.... You guys died two years ago..... And.... And I can't help but wonder..... Is any of this real?" Cynthia looked up sadly. Her parents exchanged a smile before Taylor took the floor
"My flower, of course this is real! You have entered a place of magic, a place where anything, everything you truly need may happen. This place is sanctuary created many years ago by our ancestors for run away slaves who have lost so much already. It was first used as a hideout, yet it presents the user not what one wants, but one needs. Legend has it that only when a person is in their most dire state may the meadow open itself. So Cynthia, what is it you need?"
Cynthia looked down. She knew what she needed, and she hated it more than anything in the world. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and looked up at her parents.
"I needed to apologize. I needed to let you know that I was sorry for basically getting you killed. If I hadn't been so selfish, if I hadn't begged for ice cream, maybe you two would still be here. And I know everyone says that it wasn't my fault, but it is. It is, and I am so, so, sorry." Cynthia looked up at her parents with tears in her eyes, bracing herself for the very worst.
Her mother laughed and kissed her daughter's head, pulling her close.
"My dear, it isn't your fault. We were the ones to say yes - we didn't have to give in to your desire for ice cream." Her father chuckled softly at this. "You couldn't have known what was to happen that night. You were only six. Of course you wanted ice cream. Of course you didn't understand the dangers. But you do know now and that is what is important. So, both me and your father forgive you - even though you had done nothing wrong to begin with."
"Now dry those tears, flower. And let's have the best night of your life."
And they did. The danced until the sun peaked over the valley, talking and dancing and singing and laughing - a family.
But suddenly, the world around them swirled. It twisted and slipped and turned until Cynthia was back at the lake, the flickering form of her parents in front of her.
"We love you." Taylor said, smiling softly.
"So much." Amelia added as she fought back tears.
And then the wind pushed them away, Leaving only the scent of wild flowers behind.
"CYNTHIA!" Said girl turned around to see her older cousin, Zack.
  "Cynthia, we've been looking everywhere for you! Where on Earth is your wheel chair? And what is in your hair?" Zack brushed away the flowers from Cynthia's braid. All of them were shriveled up, dead. Except for one: The single lily she had retrieved from the lake, still speckled with dew. Cynthia smiled down at the flower before turning her gaze back towards her cousin.
  "Nothing, Zack. Just..... Meeting with some old friends."