I hadn’t stopped crying all morning. After further sorting out my room I’d found something that I’d not expected to come across.

I clutched onto the small yet beautiful painting that hung delicately in my hand. It was the same painting my mother had tried to copy for my sixth birthday present.

Vibrant flowers and vines were entwined round small, dazzling gems. A pure, proud white dove stood in the middle. Its blue eye stared at me, watching over me. Some of the colours had run, but I could tell it was still the same painting; maybe it was even the original.

I traced my fingers along one of the vines; memories of doing the same thing when I had been younger came flooding back. I let the tears gently dance down my cheek; thoughts and prayers of my mother were all I could think of. Would I ever see her again? Was she okay?
A sudden rage overcame and I had to find out, find out all the answers to the questions that clogged up my thoughts. I stood up abruptly, ready to confront whomever I saw first. A sudden fist of pain stopped me, gripping my body and forcing me to the ground. I screamed out silently, hitting the ground with my raw fists. My cheeks were wet with tears, my throat ached and my empty stomach protested. I reluctantly curled up in a ball, desperate to be back in Denmark.


Hours passed, hours of waiting for my mum to magically come and find me. To tell me it would be okay. I could smell food downstairs, that boy was probably preparing something again. He obviously liked to cook, and he was good at it. I wish I were good at something; I’m just an injured nuisance to all of them. I didn’t even have a proper ‘power,’ yeah I could make it snow. How amazing, I could make it snow. How is that ever going to help anyone? Maybe I could help them make an evil snowman that would kill the government.

I laughed to myself, fat lot of good that would be.
I hauled myself up; ignoring the protests my aching body gave me. Slowly I limped downstairs, hoping there was some sort of food left. I walked down the dusty corridor. A large window stood at one end, I could barely see out of it. I used my sleeve to brush away the dirt, willing the light to peep through. A beam shot through, illuminating the dark, musty corridor. I smiled to myself, at least people could see now.

I could hear sobbing coming from behind one of the doors, but I decided against intruding and made my way down the unstable stairs and into the old kitchen.

To my surprise, only two people were standing around the rickety table. They were both boys and both had a bun in their hands. They smiled at me as I came in, offering me a bun from the plate. I gladly took it and began to eat, devouring every last crumb. I joined in with the conversation, but not as enthusiastically as I had the day before.

“Do you think its snowing Germany?” I said voicing my thoughts aloud. They both shook their heads, smiling gently at me. They must think I’m a freak.

“I have to go now.” I said, standing up abruptly and ignoring the pain. “Thank you for looking at my cuts yesterday Nen.” I said quickly, before running, or walking, as fast I could upstairs. I shut my door quietly, sinking into the bed and falling into a well-deserved sleep.

The End

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