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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Action
- Published: 01/14/2017
Snow swirls past my face, each flake a unique, delicate creation absorbed into the thick white blanket that now coats the forest floor in a solid mass. The cold air stings my cheeks, smarting my wind chapped, raw cheeks. A silver quarter lays glinting in my blue, woolen mitten and I flick it into the air with a ringing “ping”. It slowly descends towards the ground and I snatch it up before it disrupts the delicate snow.
“Tails,” I whisper, and my voice echoes through the clearing, like the clear resounding of a bell, “You lose.” The man before me goes pale, and he clutches the cross on his pasty, flabby neck. I walk toward him and he stumbles backward, straight into a snow filled hole.
“W-wait! I can pay you, please no!” He cries, terror filling his eyes. “Pleas-” His last word is cut off as he falls to the ground, which now bleeds a deep crimson. I sheath my knife and turn, unaffected. As I trudge away through the snow, I do not turn back to the body which lies face down in a pool of scarlet. My final words resonate through the open clearing.
“Don’t play games with a girl who plays them better.”
Snow Quarter(Ainsley)
Snow swirls past my face, each flake a unique, delicate creation absorbed into the thick white blanket that now coats the forest floor in a solid mass. The cold air stings my cheeks, smarting my wind chapped, raw cheeks. A silver quarter lays glinting in my blue, woolen mitten and I flick it into the air with a ringing “ping”. It slowly descends towards the ground and I snatch it up before it disrupts the delicate snow.
“Tails,” I whisper, and my voice echoes through the clearing, like the clear resounding of a bell, “You lose.” The man before me goes pale, and he clutches the cross on his pasty, flabby neck. I walk toward him and he stumbles backward, straight into a snow filled hole.
“W-wait! I can pay you, please no!” He cries, terror filling his eyes. “Pleas-” His last word is cut off as he falls to the ground, which now bleeds a deep crimson. I sheath my knife and turn, unaffected. As I trudge away through the snow, I do not turn back to the body which lies face down in a pool of scarlet. My final words resonate through the open clearing.
“Don’t play games with a girl who plays them better.”
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