Story of an Hour

I read the story called 'Story of an Hour', and thought i could write my own.

The girl slammed her door, and clutched her head, as tears trickled down her cheeks. The snide comments, the horrible names that they had called her all spun round her head, a barrier that hardened her heart. She never let her true feelings show, but tried to keep her head down as she walked.

As she sat on her bed, and opened her window, she gave a shuddering sigh. One day, they'd pay. All of them would pay for making her life miserable. She watched the crisp snow danced down, kissing her arms, carressing her hands. She took a breathe of that rough, cold air that scratched her throat. The snow, the rain and the air were the only friends she had. She felt dead inside, and loved these cold things that came to play with her. From her bag, her phone buzzed. She took it out, and answered it. She sat there, listening in silence.


She threw the phone hard at the wall, and put her hands to her head, her nails scratching her  cheeks. She screamed into her hands, the tears burning her face.

Some kids found her in the morning, when they came to throw pebbles at her and her window, outside, curled up, her arms covered with nothing but snow, her lips light blue, and her eyes open slightly. She was taking in less air that a chick might. They just left, with a laugh, and a small joy in their hearts. As her soul slipped away from her froze prison, she was free to dance and play with the snow, rain and air without fear of others interfering.

The End

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