It was dreadfully cold when i opened my eyelids, lifting them slowly to the surroundings of the scene. Snow was falling from the sky, but it wasn't just snow, but tiny ice particles, like small bullets slowly sliding down off my pale cold skin.
It wasn't until I was standing on my feed I realized I had no shoes on, my toes makuing cointact with the crunch of the ice bullets. I let my hands onder, trying to find something to cover them, but as I wandered off, I see a mess.
A car upside down laid onto the snow, stripped of the doors and roof, the side of the vehicle turn off by he claws of the trees in a poor attempt to stop it. I gazed my attention to the dead object, searching in the rubbish and decay.
There was a mirror right beside the car. I had picked it up, gazing and speculating if this is really who I was. I could not recall my name or anything in that nature or form, but my instincts were familiar to this face staring back at me with light green eyes.
After some tailing in the mess, I found a large suitcase, luggage from the life I cannot recollect. Still, I unzip it all the way, carefully opening it to the contents inside. I was relieved there were weaters and shoes; I put on layers of socks and shirts, tying the boots tightly to my small feet.
Venturing out of the scene, I trudged to the direction of the soft banter a few feet away, careful and thoughtless of what to say.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories From a Poetic Girl
Short StoryThese are short stories/poems that i have written in class and i would like to publish. All of these stories are mine and mine alone. Sometimes there will be a few poems that pop up here and there, but most of these short stories are sometimes relat...
