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She looked up at the sky, letting the cool rain wash down her face. It dripped down her hair and soaked her clothes, but she didn’t care. She loved it.

It took everything he had not to cry out in pain. There she was – Snow White – sitting in her glass coffin, her dark hair framing her pale face. “It’s too late,” said one of the dwarves. Grumpy. “She’s gone.”
“Please,” he said. “Let me say goodbye.”
The dwarves all looked at each other, and after a moment, moved away from her coffin. Charming gently lifted up the glass cover and looked at her once more before kissing her goodbye. But something happened. He felt it. He looked around the forest, but stopped when he heard a gasp.
“You found me,” said Snow.
She was alive.

The chain bit into her skin, and Christina bit back a sob. She trudged on, cursing at the uphill ground and the chains dragging her down, yet connecting her to the other prisoners.

I don’t think persons is a word, she thought. However, the mayor kept droning on and on about the pouring rain at the cathedral, and how the ‘persons’ should have stopped it.

The rain was pouring down her windowsill. It was probably cold. Refreshing. But she would never know. She put one hand up to the cold glass window, realizing she might never feel the rain pour again.

There was a silhouette of something great and dark looming over Christie as she climbed the mountain. As she reached it, she ran her hand around the dark green vines twisting and turning; the bricks older than her […]

It was the killing. The shooting of my father. One minute, holding hands. The next? Dead. Brief. It was the way the man looked at me beofre pulling the trigger. ‘Im sorry,’ he seemed to say. But then that was it. […]