Atop the snowy mountain was my favorite pit-stop. An amber-lit soup house decorated with white tea lights along its entryway.
When the sun would finally set behind the frosted pine trees, making way for the night, the warm light of the cafe would stretch across the snow.
When my skis became too heavy to haul, I'd make my way up the mountain towards the light. With each step, the smell of garlic and warmed herbs would make their way up my nose.
About 50 feet away from the entrance, a small sign barely standing, peaked out of a small snow mound-
"Grandma Lucy's Soup Kitchen."
A stiff smile would stretch its way across my chapped lips. More visible with each tired step, a shelf of books sat neatly in the window. Each book stood in order of height, a small plump woman organizing them and stoping between each few to examine the spines.
Her short brown hair was peppered with grey and white, swirled into a neat bun on top of her head. My big boots made their first shaky step onto the wooden porch, making a heavy noise that would startle the woman with the books.
Despite the startle, she would turn quickly and flash a warm smile. She opened the glass door swiftly, inviting a chilly draft. Wrapping her knit cardigan tighter around herself, she stepped aside to let me in.
"Welcome, hon. Come on in!"
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Creative Writing Pieces
Short StorySome story intros, drafts, and other short pieces of creative work used to show case my writing.
