A/N Wrote this for school, actually. I have an exam coming up for chorus and we had to create something inspired by a song. This song that was chosen out for us is "River in Judea," which I will include on the side. While the song evidently has Biblical roots, I decided to head on a different root. Initially this was going to be based off of In The Wings, but...well, there's many reasons why that wouldn't work. Spoilers, sweeties.

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It was a storybook worthy family: a trio made of a mother, a father, and a young girl. Charlotte had her mother's wild curls and her father's soft eyes that glinted under just about any light fathomable. On this particular late summer day, the family was having a picnic over by a river. The scene was doubtlessly picturesque, the three of them resting beneath a leafy tree that swayed from a slight breeze in the air.

But just as her mother was about start setting out the picnic for everyone to enjoy, Charlotte burst up and scampered away in a frenzy of motion.

“Lotte?” her father called out. “Where are you going?”

“I'm looking for the magical man with his music. He lives in the river,” Charlotte explained, soon reaching the river bank. She bounced on her heels as she peered into the depths of the water, feeling her eyes starting to burn slightly from the glare reflecting off of it.

“The magical man who lives in the river?” her father asked, sounding intrigued in what his daughter had to say. After sharing a gaze with his wife, he set off to stand beside Charlotte and better understand what was going on.

“Yes,” she replied, nodding her head. She was making it clear that she had authority over this subject. “He makes music that isn't like anything we have on this world.”

At this point, Charlotte’s mother decided to join the rest of her family at the river bank. The picnic was still safely tucked away in its basket to be feasted upon later. For now, she wanted to have her say in the matter.

“I remember him like it was yesterday, and yet it still feels like I haven't seen him for thousands of years.” she, letting out a slight laugh. But only a slight glance at her eyes could tell anyone that she wasn't really in a joyful mood.

“You knew the man who lives in the river?” Charlotte asked, her voice filled with awe.

“He taught me how to sing, Lotte!” her mother responded, taking her child into her lap. “I couldn't have made it here without him. We wouldn’t be singers today if it weren’t for the man in the river.”

“What?” Charlotte’s father now asked his wife, moving closer to her. Their daughter still seemed to be interested, but soon realized that this was a boring old grown-up conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Charlotte continuing to search for the man in the river.

“There once was a man who taught me to sing,” Charlotte’s mother replied. “Music drew us together and then kept us there. His voice was like something out of a dream, more ethereal than anything you could imagine…”

“But this was a man?” her husband replied. “You sound like you were very close with him.”

“Well, he would be a man now,” she responded. “We were both children at the time. Actually, we were around Lotte’s age. Seven.”

Now that Charlotte’s father no longer felt threatened over this other man, he decided to proceed with his questioning as his daughter began to call out for the man to come.

“Why exactly are you telling Lotte that he lives in the river, then? You could just tell her the truth.”

His wife’s eyes now fogged over with the distinct mist of tears. Although she kept a smile pasted to her face, she was in no way happy. She had been holding back these memories and altering them for a reason.

“We would have been best friends for years, I’m sure of it,” she began. “But…things happen, bad things. That’s just how life is, I suppose. There was a hit and run car accident, and…”

There was no need for her to say any more on the topic. Her husband had already enveloped her within his arms. Shockingly, though, she didn’t end up shedding a single tear. It was useless to cry over this now.

“He taught me to sing by the river, this very river,” she murmured, making sure to take a deep stabilizing breath. “This is the closest place I can get to his spirit again, to the melodies he once created. It’s as if one day I’ll be able to come here again and join him in song.”

Her tale was not yet through, but soon Charlotte’s excited yells broke through her words and pushed them aside.

“I hear his voice!” she shrieked excitedly, pointing at the water. “I hear his voice coming from the river. I hear music, Mommy! He’s here!”