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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1271621-Its-cold
by RylieJ
Rated: E · Prose · Fantasy · #1271621
She's taking her last walk...or is she?
It’s cold. The freezing wind whips around her, tugging at her scarf and stealing her breath. Her boots make squeaking noises against the crisp, pristine whiteness of the snow. Today, she’s going to see the master. Only he will decide if she would walk this path tomorrow. Her mind is reeling, pondering and trying to decide her fate in advance. She had done nothing worthy of death that she could think of. But then, the master was a foolish man, given to deciding by number rather then worth. Just last year, he had taken the life of an elderly grandmother, struggling to care for her grandchildren and let a known murderer go. She looked back, her footprints already vanishing from the falling snow. Usually she would stop to take all this in. Let her eyes wander over the clean purity of it all. Catch the glittering snow in all its wonder and beauty, laying there like so many fallen stars, covering the blemished landscape. If only it could remain as untouched and un-ruined as the day it was created. She sighed a little and stuffed her cold hands in her pockets. If only she had thought to tell her parents goodbye. She never had before, but something just didn’t feel right about today. She blinked a little, realizing she had a single lonely tear frozen on her cheek. This is foolish. Why was she crying? She had done nothing wrong. There it was. The palace. Just before she stepped inside, one last thought crossed her mind. It’s cold.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1271621-Its-cold