Edward Scissorhands
Rising up to a hazy light filtering through the door, I pressed my cheek against it, my breath steamed up the glass and gets stuck in my throat as I realise what was happening; a sight so rare it is seen more on a festive card than in reality. Fine layers of white powder stretched endlessly and covered the lush grass beneath it. A sight so peaceful you couldn’t help but feel calm.
Stepping out of the misty glass into the lawn, I felt the slushing beneath my feet, and a cold breeze blowing in my golden hair. Thick, dark and golden, with specks and streaks of light; I shook my head as the wind blew through it, it made slow waves roll through that rich gold and made the lighter lengths dance and play. Shoulders composed, my white dress ran just below my knees, as it flared in the night air like a fountain of silk. Gazing at the empty sky; the moonless night magnified the silence as the untouched, soft white layer of snow covered the ground like a blanket on top of you on a chilly winter night.
Edward scratched away at an angelic sculpture, with his pointed lethal hands. He shadowed the pure and beautiful angel as he scratched intensely through the ice; his face, as pale as wax, as he stood in his borrowed, steam pressed shirt. I came closer to the incomplete carving, as the snow fell downwards like soft diamonds and grasped gently onto my dress.
How could something that felt such bitter and loneliness create something of such majestic beauty?
Stepping further into the lawn, the flakes fell like a million ballerinas all dressed in white, they whirled from the dim sky and landed neatly onto the lawn. They danced and melted upon the palm of my hand as I twirled with turmoil through the harsh but affectionate air. Weaving around me like pristine fairy dust, I sailed through the soft icy kisses, twisting and gliding beneath his icy sculpture that melted my heart. Heaven.
Happiness pricked my cheeks then sewed me up in stitches. They cheered and floated as
Stepping out of the misty glass into the lawn, I felt the slushing beneath my feet, and a cold breeze blowing in my golden hair. Thick, dark and golden, with specks and streaks of light; I shook my head as the wind blew through it, it made slow waves roll through that rich gold and made the lighter lengths dance and play. Shoulders composed, my white dress ran just below my knees, as it flared in the night air like a fountain of silk. Gazing at the empty sky; the moonless night magnified the silence as the untouched, soft white layer of snow covered the ground like a blanket on top of you on a chilly winter night.
Edward scratched away at an angelic sculpture, with his pointed lethal hands. He shadowed the pure and beautiful angel as he scratched intensely through the ice; his face, as pale as wax, as he stood in his borrowed, steam pressed shirt. I came closer to the incomplete carving, as the snow fell downwards like soft diamonds and grasped gently onto my dress.
How could something that felt such bitter and loneliness create something of such majestic beauty?
Stepping further into the lawn, the flakes fell like a million ballerinas all dressed in white, they whirled from the dim sky and landed neatly onto the lawn. They danced and melted upon the palm of my hand as I twirled with turmoil through the harsh but affectionate air. Weaving around me like pristine fairy dust, I sailed through the soft icy kisses, twisting and gliding beneath his icy sculpture that melted my heart. Heaven.
Happiness pricked my cheeks then sewed me up in stitches. They cheered and floated as