Fleurville's Tragedy

I like it ^-^

It was mid-afternoon when Inesa's class were finally released from Sunday School, and she was glad. Mrs. Larkins, as kind as she may be, was not a particularly fantastic teacher and Inesa was not a particularly fantastic student. Inesa did try, there's no mistaking that. But she was seated right next to a large window facing the flower gardens and... well, let's say her imagination was untied from its harness. Mrs. Larkin's slow explanations on prayers failed to keep it grounded.
In fact, nothing seemed to be keeping it grounded. As Inesa skipped out of the white-washed Sunday School cottage, the first thought that struck her was how spendid the day was. It was certianly sunny, with only a few wispy clouds hanging about like cotton candy. The temperature was perfect, mellow and warm, but with a bite of cold to keep you awake. Inesa wrapped her cardigan more securely around her shoulders and set off at a reasonable pace to Seaview Homestead. The cobbled path was weed-free, courtesy of the widow Anna Myers who had a lot more free time now her youngest son had flown the coup. The sides of the path were lined with white-and-purple daisies, with a scattering of golden buttercups. Beyond that was lucious green pasture, dotted with sheep, sheds and the occasional home. Right at the end of the path, a good 400 yards away, was a tangle of weeping willows. Inesa knew that was where her home was situated.
As Inesa walked and fanticized, a tall, shy-looking gentleman quietly approached her. He had eyes the colour of the grass surrounding him, hair the shade of buttercups and skin the colour of the scarce clouds. His gait was clumsy - he tripped over himself and frequently tangled his ankles together. As soon as he was within arms reach of Inesa, he tapped her on the shoulder.
Inesa landed on Earth with a jolt and turned around wildly, her breathing quick. She stopped clean in her tracks, causing the man to halt quickly. She stared at him with wide eyes, but then looked down at the copper-coloured bricks, cheeks flaming. "I thought..." she began, "I was quite sure..." But then she stopped, ashamed of her foolishness.
The man cleared his throat. "Do you know a Nicholas Mercer?" he said finally, in a voice that trembled with unease.
Inesa's curious blue eyes turned as tragic as a stormy sea, and her posture seemed to droop.
"I did know him," she said mournfully, "Only he passed away a few months ago, an incurable bout of Flu, if I'm not mistaken."
The man looked shocked. So shocked that you could see the whites around all of his iris, and his mouth was an open door. Then the brilliant green eyes filled with unwanted tears, and his shoulders shuddered with sorrow.
"Why do you ask?" Inesa inquired kindly. The man looked up and answered, grief-stricken "I am his twin, Harrod."
Inesa gave a little gasp of understanding. "I realise now!" she said triumphantly, "I realise! I thought you were Mr. Mercer coming back as a ghost to haunt Fleurville forever more! But then I realized how your looks differ... he had the same eyes, but they had more merry wrinkles at the corners, and my, how your hair colour differs! A rusty auburn compared to strawverry blond! And his cheeks were a jolly shade of rasberry, you have a frightfully pale complexion!"
This last comment made Harrod Mercer smile slightly. He blinked away the tears and asked tentitavely "Could you... I mean... is it too much trouble...?"
"Come with me," laughed Inesa, starting into a skip, "I did love visiting Mr. Mercer's cottage, it's such a sweet little house, with creeping ivy and pots of geraniums on the stained-glass window ledges, and would you believe he had a large marble birdbath with amazing carvings, I wonder how he managed to aquire such a gorgeous garden decoration, and the brids loved it too..."
Harrod's heart swelled with pride, and as the merry young lass lead him to his brother's home, he remembered the birdbath he had carved for Nicholas, many years before.

Author's Note

Supposed to be well-written.