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Kira Sekurai

Snowflower: Prologue

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I haven't really written anything in quite a long time, so I apologize in any inconveniences or inconsistencies you may seem to come across. This is the beginning of a loooooooong story. It is a bit sad, though. I need to exercise my writing skills.

Don't read if you don't like an overdose of "sadness".

I remember standing in the snow, watching snowflakes daintily float to the white ground. A few blades of half-dead grass stick up in random spots, their body hidden in the frost. Gray clouds fill the sky, showering me with their white crystals. The sun is nowhere to be seen, though a single beam of its warm, cheery light shines through the midst of all this madness.

A woman holds me in her arms, rocking me to try and stop me continuous flow of tears. My mother. She has brown hair, the color of the branches of the snowflower trees that blossom with white, star-shaped flowers in the spring. Her eyes are the blue of the calm ocean. As the snow falls harder, she cradles me closer to her warm chest. Her embrace around me grows stronger. She wipes away my cascade of tears, but droplets of water slide down her own cheeks. Trying to hide the sadness, she wipes them away furiously, but I know she is worried. Every few moments, she looks up and into the blinding snowstorm. My mother waits for him as the snow piles up around us. Soon, we are freezing, but she makes no attempt to move. She stays there, just waiting.

A faint, gray shadow at first, a man slowly trudges out of the blizzard and the fog. A slender bow is slung across his back. His sword is firmly in his grasp. The once shiny metal is now tainted with the black blood of evil. The sword seems too heavy for the man, who limps and makes a great effort to raise and put it in its scabbard. Blood seeps through his griffin-skin armor, staining the hide with hideous blotches of crimson color. It drips onto the snow, leaving a trail of red. A large gash decorates his right leg, while scratches, stabs, and cuts beautify his body. He sighs, grunts, and finally takes the last few steps before collapsing in front of my mother and me.

My father is dying.

She screams. A blood-curdling, ear-splitting scream leaves her mouth. As if on cue, the snow falls harder, the clouds become darker, and the single beam of light disappears. Everything is dark and shadowed. Fresh blood from my father’s injuries spills onto the snow. He groans and beckons for me. My mother reluctantly sets me in my father’s arms. His embrace is weak and falters. He says something, nearly inaudible. I don’t hear it, but my mother understands. She nods, but she cries wildly as she does. Hugging my father, she cries onto my blanket. My father smiles weakly, then, is limp.

Another scream pierces through the blurry sky. My mother squeezes him tighter, trying to revive him, though she knows his spirit has already risen above the dark, stormy sky. I am squeezed between a half-frozen body and a warm, crying woman. I don’t comprehend her actions. All I know is that something is wrong, but I don’t know what.

Suddenly, a black shadow towers over us. I look up. Though the snow hurts my eyes and blurs my vision, I know exactly what the shadow is. My father’s greatest enemy, the Phantom Thief, stands over my mother and me, holding his fancy, jeweled sword. The tip is also smothered in the crimson blood of my father. He wears a black cape that covers his body. His face is hidden from sight by a black hood, but his ruby eyes are enhanced by the darkness. He smirks and the fading light reflects of his glittering white fangs.

My mother is terrified. I can sense it in her touch. “Please…please don’t kill me or my child!” she begs.

The Phantom Thief laughs maniacally. “I shall kill both of you, the same exact way as I killed him!”

She holds me closer to her body. Her wild heartbeat rings in my ears. Tears lands on my face and in my mouth, allowing me to taste the saltiness of her sadness.

The caped figure raises his sword above us as my mother crushes me nearer to the ground. Her last words ring in my mind.

“She will not die.”

The sword plummets down in a brilliant arc and digs itself into my mothers back. A scream fills the air, penetrating each falling snowflake. The wind blasts through a nearby snowflower tree, destroying all of its white flowers. The petals follow the wind, traveling in a flurry of a white tornado. The snow falls even harder, and the sky becomes black. Everything stops, as if time had halted. Suddenly, everything is engulfed in the shadows.

To be continued...

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