jellibean
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 - lying 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 in the air. He looked around the forest, but stopped when he heard a gasp.
"You found me," said Snow.
She was alive.
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.
"I'm afraid. I admit it, okay! I-I'm scared of you."
He stared at me for a minute, trying to find a loophole or way I could get out of it. Satisfied, he grinned like a shark, showing his teeth and simply beaming.
Jerk, I thought.
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.
Motion. Stay in motion, she thought. Just stay in motion, and you'll be alright. But it was hard. The frigid, cold, and icy water made her breath appear in front of her, vapory and grey. All around her, lips were turning blue; skin turning pale.
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.
She was keen about the knife. Weird, wasn't it? Christie had always been a good girl, but yet...it was something about the curved blade, the black bejeweled hilt, the way it fit in her hand...
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.
He was plump, fat, and had large, black, watery eyes. I watched in a spidery, creepy kind of silence as he pointed to the man with the axe. Sure enough he swung, bu missed, and I ran through the forest, hearing the whoosh of the arrows and the whine of the hounds. I was on my own now. All alone.
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