Well, inspiration has struck me again for another story-- (tomato flies overhead) ACK!! Okay, yes, I know I still have several other fics to finish, but give me a break! This is a good one, really! (gets glowers from readers) Here, just read the summary:

Lynn Elizabeth Arrow, forced into orphanhood after her mother's death, is suddenly whisked away into her favorite Disney movie: Beauty and the Beast. Inspired by Midnight Gypsy's Don't Rub The Lamp! series.

Yeah, I know you've probably read several fics similar to this before, but I just had to write it! (watermelon flies over shoulder) Whoa! Hey! Listen, I'll finish my stories, just let me write this one, okay? (mob nods) Alright, good. And... oh, not this part...

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast. All characters except Lynn belong to me. Got it? Good.

Now, let's get on with it!

"Happy birthday, Mom." I said, kneeling down by the grave and placing a small bouquet of roses I picked in front of the headstone, a tear falling down my eye.

When I was born, my father had left us-- so, my mom told me-- and she was left to take care of me on her own. Luckily, she always found a way to manage, and as I got older, I tried hard not to be such a burden, and even helped her out around the house.

We were more like sisters than mother-and-daughter. We always baked together, and were always to trust each other with secrets so we could tell each other anything, and no matter what kind of argument we got into, we'd always make up in the end.

We baked together, cleaned the house together, and shopped together, just like any mother and daughter. But the one thing we both loved to do the most was work in the garden, where we grew roses. No daisies, no lilies, just roses, my mother's most favorite flower.

Next to working in the garden, there was one other thing my mom and I loved to do: watch my all-time favorite Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. We both were obsessed with that movie! When cleaning, my mom would always hum "Be Our Guest" and I'd join in, and when I was little, she'd always sing the song from the scene where Belle and the Beast were dancing, "Beauty and the Beast" to be specific. Life was good...

...until my mom began to grow sick. At first, it was just mild stomach aches and fevers, but soon she grew too weak to get out of bed. I called the hospital when she couldn't even move in bed, and an ambulance came and picked us up. I wasn't going to leave my mother's side.

After she was examined, the doctor told me she was diagnosed an internal illness, and only had a couple days to live. I was devastated, but I hid my emotion, just to keep my mother from feeling worse.

She was to stay in the hospital, the doctors recommended, since moving her might make her condition worse. What could be worse than being on the edge of dying? I thought bitterly, but didn't ask. I didn't want to know. I visited her every hour of the day, bringing her gifts such as roses (of course) and a box of chocolates, even a stuffed bear my father had given to her on their 3rd date.

I stayed the second night of my visit in the hospital with my mom, despite the doctor's order that I should head home. I told him that I wanted to spend as much of my time with my mother as I could, and he let me stay out of sympathy. I took out Beauty and the Beast and put it in the TV's video player in Mom's room, and together we watched it. My mom smiled at me, and a tear rolled down her eye, happy that I was doing all this for her. She held my hand, and we didn't let go through the whole movie.

At the final scene, as the chorus sang, I felt my mother's grip weaken. I looked over at her-- her eyes her shut, but her smile remained. She had stopped breathing, and I began to bawl. She had died.

At least I made her last moments meaningful, I told myself, but that didn't stop my tears from falling.

The funeral was long, but I didn't hear much of what everyone said. A few friends of my mom's were weeping, and my classmates who attended were very sympathetic, but all I did was look at my mother's casket-- a black coffin rimmed with a gold trim with dozens of roses on top of it.

What the worst part was that my mom had no siblings, and my grandparents had passed away years ago, and there was no one who would take me into foster-care, so what did that mean?

It meant I was sent to an orphanage. I was ten, with long black hair and green eyes. I always hid in a room or closet when people came by to adopt a kid so I wouldn't be taken home with anyone. I didn't want a new mother... I couldn't bare to replace my one-and-only real mom. So, I remained at the orphanage my entire childhood...

And now, eight years later at the age of 18, I sat at my mother's grave, weeping. I still missed her. I had gotten out of the orphanage and used my security check to buy an apartment, and to buy a car-- a small Oldsmobile, nothing too classy.

Once I was through mourning, I climbed into my car and drove out of the cemetery, and on my CD the most coincidental song played...

Tale as old as time,

Song as old as rhyme

Beauty and the Beast...

And I bursted back into tears, having to pull over on the side of the street because my tears began to blur my vision. It was my favorite song, but it also sounded like a funeral hymn for my mother.

My name is Lynn, and this is my story.

A/N: So sad... but don't worry, it'll get better soon! (ducks an oncoming tomato) Ack! Okay, I'll get back to writing! Sheesh!

Please review, but no flames... unless you're giving my a flamethrower.