Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Too (A The Script Fan-fiction)

1) Same Stuff Different Day

Sienna's POV.

I could start this story off saying it was a damp gloomy afternoon in the middle of Febuary. The sun was no where to be seen and a chill filled the air. However, that's not really creative of me. Nor is it artistic. Being in the profession that I am in perhaps I should try the opening to this scene again.

The weather was perishing. One morning I got up at six am as usual and went on my early morning jog. As I stepped out of the house, I began to shiver from the gale of wind that had hit me full on in the face.

It was absolutely piercing. My hands and feet were benumbed with cold. My nose began to ran and my ears were as cold as ice. I was chilled to the marrow. My legs became stiff. Not one single bird chirped as they lay huddled together sharing warmth in their nests.

I ran for about a mile to try and make myself warm but it was all for no purpose. My feet were frozen. It was foggy and misty. Nothing was visible. The grass was covered with frost. Frost had killed all of the flowers and vegetation. The trees stood bare. The temperature touched freezing point.

I hastened home, took a cup of hot tea and covered myself with a duvet but I was still shivering from the cold. My hands were almost paralysed. I huddled up to my new best friend. The radiator. I warmed my hands for a good half an hour.

Office workers had a hard time. They could not cycle as the steel handles of their bicycles were even colder than ice. An ice cold wind blew into their faces. They had put on woollen suits, pullovers, over-coats, fluffy socks and gloves yet, by their faces, they still felt uncomfortable from the cold.

The poor were hit the hardest. They were without woollen clothes. They, like me, had to work in the chilling cold. They shivered. Their teeth chattered. Their hands and feet were swollen from this frozen landscape.

Their miserable condition excited pity. Even the children who are full of the wine of life did not come outside unless it was to make their way to school.

I looked out of my window and saw the sudden change in the overcast sky. Clouds began to thunder and lightening began to flash. It began to rain and hail. The ground was soon white with hail stones.

Around eight o'clock and the storm stopped. I was left with a perfect image of a winter day. Dewdrops shine and glitter as they fall down, disturbed by the faint cold breeze. They drop onto the frozen hard ground, forming a small puddle of ice. Faint traces of ice linger on the bark of a tree trunk, shimmering in the bright cool sun and brittle to touch.

Birds began to stir in the tops of the trees, fluttering and chirping to keep warm. The leaves rustle in the icy gentle wind and more ice particles fall to the ground and in turn cause more dewdrops to dislodge. A small snail slithers it's way through the pale grass and narrowly misses a disending drop of water. The slimy trail left behind turns to a sheen of faintly green ice. The air, full of heavy frozen moisture, feels cold. The air smells of dewdrops that are falling from the brittle frosty leaves.

Yes, I believe that that is more of a creative introduction to my day. One that you can satisfactorly paint on a canvas. Speaking of which I must get some breakfast down me and head over to my studio. I think that, despite the cold, it's an outside job today.