Yesterday of dense strawberry flavored scoop of spherical shape of hot gases 'sun' captivating the half-world-wide-nations from the part of the mother Earth influencing intense vanilla bean color daylight, and waxing the dark nights and process of melting ice wedges into garden-fresh oxygenated water solutions streaming live in the invented wide valleys.
In-filtering the yellow casted light, bouncing into another civilized area through the open windows, each revolving around the principles of providing enough light energy calculated into your house size. Common ocean blue half-occupied by droplets of thick, neat and white clouds taking the shape of any-object-ever-imagined and greens of nature's gift.
The sun light which directly but indirectly intends to create its own pathway entering every little transparent corner or hole jam-packed by circulations of lights brightening the dull space and gradually triggering to open your eyes whereas the cycle oscillation buzzed the weird tinkles and jingles and telephone ringtone, from the alarm app acknowledging to just wake up and then, get into a better term in the school later.
'Wow, each individual tree enclosed in complete frost, few fields of submersed basic white snow synthesizing the true meaning of the first snow fall within each chronological year, the sunlight of yesterday immersed in the large landfill of snow jackets, and today, the frosty ice entrenched in your window frozen,' said Guinevere, applying the childhood cheesy technique of exhaling the inner chillness represented by the thick fogs on the window glass, and carving small scripts of upper case letter 'DREAMY SNOW' on the foggy screen appearing clean and twinkling fairy lights glimmering perfect during day.
The leafless tree branches hanging-low, foot prints shaped on the white snow, muddy brown, while activating a short sneak peak on an extraordinary snow man made among the few similar ones with blue eyes and three wobbling button on the ice creme body, really pointed nose improper on the edge of it's face, twigs of the tree as hands and a navy scarf warped around the neck, a poster of annagrams 'MEEOCODSITU' below the snow man by Cian Smith.
'Come outside!' Guinevere read the message, breathing in her good night perfume after sanitizing herself in a long warm shower.
'Aren't you going to join me?' said Resa, busy describing her epic schedule, 'Crisp afternoon walks, pinning all around and sound of sleigh bells, collection of on-going winter photos, fingertips burning red, pursed purple lips and slow winter breeze smashing your cheeks rosy pink, glowing face under the heating fire and 'So on' Guinevere shrieked her voice, drowsing her head inside the partitioned curtain, 'What are you doing?' added Guinevere, impressed into the work of another business, 'Nothing' Resa lied, layering an extra-large table cloth over her work. 'No climaxing the story of my work when I am gone! Actually, are you joining me or not?' she quivered, settling away her secret project in a pinky box.
'Just give me a time I'll be ready' Guinevere replied, selecting a thick-warm outfit, 'What about this one?' Resa said, shoving an oversize limited hoddie and milky trouser.
'Its good! And when have you been caring about me lately? And thank you' Guinevere's face brightened as she flickered in the new outfit. '(A) I'm trying to be kind (B) taking full-time duty on you as your one year old, elder sister and your welcome' she screeched and smiled at the same time. 'Today isn't the day to snow, right?' she questioned, 'Yeah, the weather forecaster was wrong, so wrong, the snow has fallen three days before they reported the news' Guinevere's muddle facial expression aligned.
A common message notification categorized into the unread colomn. 'Message in the early winter morning' Guinevere said, perhaps eager.
C.S: Gather at my house.
G: No
C.S: No, but Theresa said yes, so.........
G: Okay then.
C.S: Time: 10Am
Reminder
C.S is Cian Smith
G is Guinevere.
I hope you at least enjoyed it and do comment because I like replying.
YOU ARE READING
Not always Silent.
Short StoryNot always Silent person are silent, Guinevere, a fifteen-year-old, goody-two-shoe girl being popular around the school campus, almost 50 percent, the average rate of gossip columnists about her per day and always sticking to the mud of books. Here...
