Snow (Short Story)

Dawn approached, creeping in on silent golden fingers.

The atmosphere was still, and the very air was tense, as though expecting something to happen, to disturb the way in which morning arrived.

A fresh fall of snow had blanketed the ground, pure white in all its glory.

It beckoned to a young six-year old girl as she rushed out of the house in her pajamas to admire the snow.

It enticed her to taste its pureness and savour it as the crushed snow slowly melted on her tongue and slid down her throat.

That day sprung into a four year old standing habit which was carried out on the first day the snow starts to fall.

"That Sheila!" Mrs. Johnson would mutter, tight-lipped with an air of sheer vexation as she bustled around the kitchen preparing breakfast.

"It's just not hygienic," she'd complain to Mr. Johnson, every single year without fail.

And every single year, Mr. Johnson would patiently reply his same answer.

"Give her more time, she’s just growing through a phase of hers."

She'd first discovered Sheila's strange habit when she'd gotten up much earlier than usual to prepare a cup of coffee for herself.

Her daughter had been standing outside and Mrs. Johnson saw her through the window, drinking the snow.

With a cry of disgust and dismay, she’d rushed out to stop her daughter and told her to stop drinking the snow.

But Sheila had simply looked at her and smiled as she innocently offered the melting snow up to her mother.

The icy coldness did not seem to bother her at all even though she had been cupping the snow in her bare hands.

Angry and desperate to stop this strange habit of her daughter’s, Mrs. Johnson had slapped the snow away from Sheila's hand and given her a harsh scolding.

But Sheila, strange, sensitive and given to sudden bursts of tantrums Sheila, had simply kept silent throughout her mother's fierce tirade.

"It was really odd," Mrs. Johnson would recount the incident later on to her husband. "She didn't shed a tear even though I'd scolded her really badly."

Now Sheila, ten years old and studying in elementary school, still carried out her strange habit started four years ago.

The others in school had relentlessly teased her about her strange habit ever since her so-called 'best friend' spilled the beans on her.

But Sheila had taken care of that, soon enough. Nobody knew what it was she'd said to make her 'best friend' feel threatened, but it was enough to make her change schools within a week.

It didn't particularly bother Sheila that she didn't have any close friends now.

Somewhere along the lines, she'd decided that fear and respect were what she'd rather get out of a person. Friendship was the third option, and one that she doubt she'd ever choose.

After hearing weather forecasts estimating that the first fall of snow would arrive in a few days, she'd stayed up through the nights, sleeping at intervals, but always on the watch for the first hint of snowflakes.

She loved seeing the way they spiralled gracefully down to the earth, loved how they seemed to fall endlessly from the sky, every single one exquisitely delicate.

The first sign of snow appeared towards the later part of the night, just when Sheila was about to doze off.

Luckily, her sharp eyes caught the falling spots of white as they descended from the sky.

With a yell of delight, she put on her warmest jacket and rushed out of the house.

A drunken kind of ecstasy surged through her veins with wild abandon, and she was blind to everything except the snow descending onto her.

Laughing, she capered around in her bedroom slippers as the snowflakes rested against the tip of her eyelashes, melting against her smooth, creamy skin.

She didn't care even when the flurry of snow started to fall heavily, covering everything in a white so pure it almost seemed to glow with magic.

Before long, she was standing in a layer of snow that reached up to her knees.

Intoxicated with sheer delight, she made her way through the thick layers of snow, gazing fascinated at a magical white town that had been so bland, dull and grey a moment before.

So absorbed was she in looking at everything that she did not realize how far she’d strayed from home.

Shivering in the cold, she turned around to trudge back home.

Then, she saw her.

A young olive-skinned girl, squatting, outside a dilapidated house to scoop up a handful of fresh snow with her gloved hands.

She heard the distinct crunching noise as the girl proceeded to mash the snow up. When the snow had melted slightly, the girl then tipped the liquid into her mouth and closed her eyes.

The look of pure joy on her face as she savored the snow, the way the silver moonlight seemed to be netted in her dark ebony hair.

It was a strangely beautiful scene, yet all Sheila could see was how the girl's dark skin colour jarred with the purity of the snow.

And she did not like it.

"You have no right to drink that snow," she said, in a firm yet strangely petulant tone, as if she alone was allowed to have such a strange habit.

Her voice rang out loud and clear, piercing the silence of the night. The girl looked somewhat crestfallen as she let the remaining snow fall from her fingers.

"Why?" she asked, somewhat awestruck by this haunting young wraith of silver blonde hair and the palest ivory skin, who'd suddenly appeared in front of her doorstep and caught her doing what she’d thought no one would discover.

"Because ..." Sheila began self-importantly, but stopped when she saw the admiring look in the girl's eyes. Her tone softened, "Because you aren't suited for it. Just look at your skin colour. It doesn't match the snow."

"Oh."

The girl fell silent, but she didn’t seem to want to battle against Sheila’s weak reasoning.

There was an awkward pause.

"What's your name?" Sheila tried to be friendly.

"Elsa," the girl murmured, shyly twisting a curl of her hair around her finger. Sheila could see why she was named so.

Elsa was an awkward, ugly name, and this girl was weak-willed, the sort who could be easily manipulated.

Her bright green eyes were set too closely together, and her lips were a little too wide.

But I can teach her how to be a better person, I can teach her to be like me, Sheila thought to herself, a hint of a smile curling her lip.

"What's yours?" Elsa asked softly.

"Sheila," she answered, smiling at Elsa.

And that was the start of the strangest friendship between a girl who wanted to be idolized, and a girl who admired her.

For one thing, Sheila suggested that Elsa change her name to Esmeralda.

"It sounds more glamorous, you know?" she said, as a form of explanation.

"Esmeralda makes me think of a mysterious girl with haunting green eyes, and that's who you are going to be one day ... with quite a bit of practice of course," she added as she assessed Elsa with a rather superior air.

"I ... I don't know ... I quite like my own name actually ..." Elsa mumbled tentatively.

Esmeralda seemed to symbolize a different person entirely, and it scared her that she might have to transform into someone else.

But Sheila did not understand.

"Why can't you just grow up? People change their names all the time, it's just a name after all," she snapped, growing impatient all of a sudden.

"I ... I'm sorry," Elsa said weakly, and whatever little resistance she had left crumbled away into dust. "You can call me Esmeralda if you want."

"Trust me, Esmeralda," Sheila said softly, placing a hand over Elsa’s trembling one. "You have to believe me ... because I'm never wrong."

And so this odd friendship continued for the next one year, with Sheila always trying to change Elsa into someone else entirely, and Elsa never objecting to a single thing that Sheila suggested.

All too soon, it was winter again and the girls were growing more and more excited as the days passed.

Even though Elsa knew that she wouldn't be allowed to drink the snow, she was still looking forward to the day when the snow would fall, clothing everything in white.

And for the first time ever, Sheila announced that she wanted to stay over at Elsa's house for a sleepover.

This in itself, was hardly surprising.

Based on her past few visits, Sheila discovered that Elsa's mother was hardly around at home. Even during the rare times that she was at home, she normally retired to her room, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and swigging cheap liquor bought from the nearest convenience store.

This gave the girls free rein over how they could spend the time.

Still, this sudden announcement by Sheila was more than enough to shock Elsa into a wild sort of delight and pride that her best friend would want to stay over at her house this time round.

She could only pray that her mother wouldn't make a spectacle of herself in front of Sheila.

Please God, don't let my mom ruin this special day, she murmured to herself as she gazed at a photo that Sheila took of them together for reassurance.

Somehow, the photo Sheila only seemed to smirk back at Elsa, in way of divine reply.

When afternoon came, Sheila came over, loaded with a sleeping bag and a haversack weighed down by mysterious items.

"Hello Sheila," Elsa breathed, barely able to contain her excitement and happiness at the fact that her friend was going to sleep over at her house for the first time.

"Hello Es," Sheila said, heaving her bag past the doorway. She had been to Elsa's house a few times to play together, and she knew just how bad things were around the place.

Being fastidious, she'd brought an extra cloth just to wipe away the dust before she placed her belongings on Elsa’s bedroom floor.

Dusting her hands, she slowly surveyed the room once she was satisfied that Elsa's germs hadn't touched her items in any way.

"Your room looks a little drabber since I last came here," she observed, her sharp eyes traveled over Elsa’s worn out blanket, tattered pillows and dirty, stained walls.

It wasn't exactly a mean-spirited comment, just a casual, careless remark. Still, it was enough to make Elsa squirm uncomfortably.

She knew her room was small and dusty, but her mother held a part-time job and it was hard making ends meet as it was.

If only Sheila could try to be more understanding. If only I could be ...

"I know what we can do today!" Sheila announced suddenly, brusquely cutting her way through Elsa's thoughts. She always did that whenever she felt that she wasn’t having enough of Elsa’s attention.

So when Elsa now turned to stare at Sheila, wide-eyed with curiosity, she gave a grin so wide it seemed to split her lips apart.

"Make. Up!" she announced triumphantly, digging through her haversack as she produced a bulging silken bag filled with cosmetics. "I snitched quite a few goodies from my mom," she whispered conspiratorially. "It'll be fun, I promise."

"It sounds fun," Elsa echoed with excitement, trying to imitate the way Sheila arched her eyebrow whenever she wanted to be dramatic.

She is so sophisticated and daring, she thought to herself longingly, if only I could be more like her.

"Let's start with you!" Sheila said, as she drew out glossy tubes of lipstick and dozens of glittering eye shadow, and got to work.

Ten minutes later, she propelled Elsa to the bathroom to take a look at her 'make-up masterpiece.'

"You look absolutely stunning," Sheila had reassured her before she pulled her hands away from Elsa's eyes.

However, when Elsa stared at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, she was unable to recognize the girl staring back at her.

Vivid neon green eye shadow was smeared all over her eyelids while a whole ton of black eyeliner was applied especially at the corner of her eyes, making them look more closely set together than ever.

To top it off, the dark red lipstick seemed to stray just slightly above the outlines of her lips, accentuating their wideness and size.

In short, she looked like a complete caricature captured in real life.

The shocked look in Elsa's eyes was evident, because it somehow compelled Sheila to act as if she didn't know what she’d just done. By subtly highlighting Elsa’s weakest features, she'd succeeded in making her look uglier than ever.

"I think you look great," she said casually, but there was a hard edge to her voice as she stared at Elsa.

Then came the unspoken challenge disguised in the form of an innocent question. "So, do you like it?"

"I ..." Elsa struggled to find the words. Sheila was more knowledgeable than her about the outside world, so this had to be what the world saw as beautiful.

She managed to force a sincere smile. "I love it, I really do."

And Sheila smiled back, that same strange grin which seemed to be so much wider than how she normally smiled.

"Perfect!" she exclaimed brightly. “Now, I’ll go do mine. I borrowed my dad’s digital camera, so we can take photos afterwards.”

"Perfect!" Elsa repeated, mimicking the false cheery tone of Sheila’s voice, except hers sounded much weaker and extremely fake.

When Sheila walked out of the bathroom an hour later, Elsa could only stare in awe at her best friend's new look.

Even though Sheila had overdosed on the black eyeliner around her eyes, it drew more attention to one of the best features of her face, and she seemed all eyes to Elsa now.

Sheila did not bother asking her for her opinion this time round as she went to dig out her camera.

"Smile for the camera, Es," she drawled as she started snapping away, but Elsa’s eyes were drawn to the glossy pink lips smirking behind the lens of the camera.

If only Sheila had used that glossy pink lipstick on me too, I'm sure I'd look more like her, and maybe I could look more beautiful.

"Now, you take me," Sheila said, batting her eyelids flirtatiously as she handed Elsa the camera.

Obediently, she took a few shots, but she was distracted. The glimmering silvery blue eye shadow painted on Sheila’s eyelids somehow reminded her of the snow.

"Do you think it’ll snow tonight?" she asked hopefully as she handed the camera back to Sheila.

"No idea," Sheila shrugged, acting like she didn't care, but there was a trace of hopefulness in her eyes as she put the camera away.

The afternoon passed by with the girls running around the house and exploring every nook and cranny.

Sheila kept insisting that Elsa’s house was haunted and they’d tried to search for ghosts everywhere, but obviously, there were none to be found in the day time.

As night fell, the girls were in the living room watching television blaring at an unusually loud volume, because Sheila claimed that she couldn’t hear what the people on TV were saying.

But Elsa could still hear the soft jingle of keys before the front door opened, and she hurriedly switched the television set off.

"Hello Mrs. Carlos," Sheila said in a sickeningly sweet voice, as Elsa’s mother walked in.

Mrs. Carlos merely nodded as she turned to stare at her daughter pointedly, "I didn’t know you were bringing over a friend today."

Elsa squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Her mother seemed unusually lucid today, which was really rare because on most days, she normally stumbled into the house in a drunken stupor.

"I forgot to tell you," Elsa said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

But her mother heard her, and she slapped Elsa without another word.

"Don't you ever dare to do things without asking for my permission again," she hissed fiercely, before storming upstairs to her bedroom.

Numb with shock, Elsa turned to stare at the blank television set. How she wished this didn't have to happen right in front of her friend.

What would Sheila think of me now?

There was an awkward silence as the girls stared into space wordlessly, with Sheila perched on one end of the sofa and Elsa sitting at the other end.

"We'd better go and sleep," Sheila finally said, standing up and stretching. She acted as if nothing had happened, and for some reason, Elsa was grateful for that.

"Yeah, we’d better," she muttered.

She stood up too and together, they slowly walked up the creaky stairs to Elsa’s bedroom.

But sleeping that night proved difficult for Elsa, and she dozed in fits, waking up on intervals.

When she woke up for what felt like the hundredth time, she decided to go downstairs to have a drink of water. Stealing a glance at Sheila, she saw that her friend was still fast asleep.

So she crept downstairs to the kitchen by herself. That was how Elsa discovered that it'd started snowing.

Ecstatic, she ran back upstairs to shake a rather groggy Sheila awake.

"It's snowing!" she yelled. And that was all it took for Sheila to open her eyes.

Giggling with anticipation, the girls ran out of the house and right into the falling snow.

The first thing Sheila did was to bend down and scoop up a portion of the snow, rubbing it vigorously in her hands until some of it melted.

She seemed immune to the coldness of the snow, for she never wore gloves.

Closing her eyes, she smiled as she tipped the melted snow into her mouth and swallowed.

Feeling envious and somewhat resentful that she wasn’t allowed to do the same, Elsa grabbed her own portion of snow and idly molded it into a snowball.

A tiny spark of something had flared up in her, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd lobbed the snowball right into Sheila’s face.

Sheila sputtered angrily as she wiped the snow from her face. Glaring at Elsa, she grabbed a handful of snow, molded it into a snowball and threw it back.

It managed to hit the side of Elsa’s head even though she tried to duck it.

Before long, snowballs were flying all over the place, and the fight had turned into a snowball war.

Too absorbed in trying to hit each other and avoid the other's snowballs, the girls didn't notice that temperatures had dropped drastically, and the snow was coming down more thickly.

Then, Sheila suddenly dropped her snowball and collapsed to the ground, hugging herself and shivering uncontrollably. She was only clad in her nightgown and a thin jacket.

Elsa hurried over to Sheila.

"Are you all right?"

Sheila was shivering to the point that she could only whisper through chattered teeth, "Home, go home."

But all Elsa could hear was the chattering of Sheila's teeth, and all she could see was the slow transformation of her friend's appearance before her eyes.

Sheila's lips were now tinged with blue and her skin was growing very pale, as pale as the white snow trembling on her dark eyelashes.

"You are so beautiful," Elsa whispered reverently, gently picking up strands of Sheila's silver blonde hair and letting them slide through her fingers like silk. "You look like a snow goddess now."

It was a haunting scene, two girls in the snow, one lying on the ground, as though already on her deathbed, while the other knelt beside her, like an entranced worshipper.

And for some reason, even though she knew she was going to die, Sheila smiled that strange, wide grin of hers.

The grin stayed on her face even when she closed her eyes for the final time and quietly slipped away into the howling icy wind.

Perhaps she liked the idea of being immortalized as a snow goddess, the romantic notion of dying young.

Perhaps she thought she could preserve her beauty forever through death.

Regardless of the reason, Elsa sat there for a while, huddling in her jacket and shoes, slowly tracing her gloved fingers across Sheila's icy face.

So this is what Death looks like, she thought to herself. No dramatic entrance, no fuss, just slipping in like a shadow and taking away one's soul.

Expressionless, she closed her eyes and slowly bent down to kiss Sheila's waxen cheek.

Then, she stood up and walked away from Sheila's body, now frozen in the snow.

She was calm when she went to inform Sheila's parents of their daughter's death.

She remained unemotional throughout the funeral, never shedding a single tear for the girl she'd once idolized. People kept giving her strange looks but she ignored them.

After the funeral, she went straight back home and up to her bedroom

Sheila's haversack still rested against the dusty floor, a reminder of her presence once.

Pulling out a pink tank top and white jeans from the bag, she put them on and surveyed herself in the cracked bathroom mirror.

It was only then, that a slow smile began to spread across her lips, and she batted her eyelids at her reflection.

"You look so beautiful ... Sheila."

P.S. Dear Heart (Poem)

P.S. Dear heart,
I know there are days,
It hurts as much as the first day he broke you,
Because I'm sewing you back together with a needle dipped in glue.
And there is no anesthesia for this mending
So bear with it for a little while more, please stop crying,
By the time I'm done, you’ll be as good as brand new.


Dear heart,
When everything heals, there'll be scars left on you
Don't be ashamed; display them for the world to see
You can tell everyone how you fell apart,
But there is a happy ending to this story,
Because it only made you stronger in the end.


Dear heart,
I think they must be lying,
When they say the skin is the most sensitive part of the body,
Because you are the most delicate organ I've ever known,
And you hurt worse than bruises and open wounds.


P.P.S. Dear love,
Once, you were the reason for my happiness,
Now, you're a drug I must stop being addicted to,
I still wait for the day I can smile with my heart
So I'm closing the door slowly on you,
Until someone can walk right in,
And won't ever leave again.


P.P.P.S. Dear God,
If I could have one wish,
It'd be to believe in miracles once more.

Anger (Poem)

As the sun burned against my skin,
My cheeks were dry.

Yet, deep inside my heart was crying.

Anger was stealing my energy.
Pain was making me feel weak.

Was this really going to be the end
Of me & you?

Answers.

You kept demanding them.
I had none to give.

Pride stuck in my throat.
Rendering me incapable of
Making myself understood.

You didn't understand at all.
Neither did I.

"Take back your ring, I don't think I should have it any longer."

You said this,
Without any form of emotion.
Your face gave nothing away.
I fought ... really fought ... to control my own.

It sounded like you were saying good-bye,
And I wasn't prepared for that single word.
Not now, not ever.

Words.
You were full of them.
I was empty of it.

It created an invisible bridge,
Between us.

One that was filled with your words
But not mine.

One that was filled with your logic
But not mine.

And as the sun burned against my skin,
The tears started to flow.

Was this really going to be the end
Of me & you?





There will never be a right time to say good-bye.

Alone (Poem)

Standing at the back of that crowded train,
I try to push back the pain,
But my skin is already stained
With memories and tears.

I tried to hold on to your heart,
But it slipped through my fingers
I never heard it shatter.

You must have taken it back
A long time ago.

Before today,
I thought nothing could be softer than
A single teardrop hitting the ground,
And a heart being cut into two.

You proved me wrong.

After today,
I lost three quarters of my faith in love,
I lived the painful meaning of a heartbreak,
I learned a little more about being brave.

And right now,
I just want to close my eyes &
forget



you.



I will hold on
To the one quarter that's left.

Swinging (Poem)

Swinging creates that illusion of flying
As I push off from the ground
Soaring high into the deep blue sky
I swing all the way up, before falling back down

Memories flashed by my eyes
Good ones and bad
There were those that made me smile
And those that made me sad


Up;
When I got back home
On my birthday’s eve
Mom & Dad threw me a surprise party
Under the falling autumn leaves

Blew out my birthday candles,
One, two, three, four, five
I tried my best not to cry
For I will never forget
The love I saw in my parents' eyes


Down;
Society is a complicated thing,
A language I couldn't comprehend
No matter what I did, I just couldn't fit in
Why? I really didn't understand.

Then puberty struck,
Pimples popping up on skin
I started worrying about my weight,
I started wanting to be thin.


Up;
I had a crush on a boy
With the most amazing brown eyes
Whenever he was near
I melted into nothing but sighs

His name decorated my front page
I got his number from a friend
He trapped my heart in a cage
Yet crushes such as this
Were destined to a bittersweet end.


Down;
Told my best friend a secret
She swore the pinkie swear
Yet the next day, everybody in school knew
It was more than I could bear

I confronted her, she denied
I did not believe, I knew she lied
I lost something in the most horrible way
I lost a friend that very day.


Up;
I finally learn
Happiness does not have a price
Love cannot be forced

Just be true to yourself
And maybe one day,
You’ll find the answers.