The beginnings of a story

The other day my 6yo wrote a letter to Father Christmas. She’s a bit early I know. The letter asked Father Christmas if he would write her a story; one in which she (the main character) has “Frozen” powers and meets Harry Potter.

“Why wait until Christmas?” I asked her. “I’ll write you a story.”

So I did. And I though I’d share it with you. (Any and all feedback will be graciously appreciated. Except if you tell me it’s rubbish. Don’t tell me that).

Chapter One

A Knock at the Door

 

It was a sunny day in Mayfield Road; birds were singing their merry summer tunes, the air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the tarmac on the road shimmered in the heat. But, inside her bedroom at number 26, Rhea was cold. Rhea was always cold. As she looked sadly out of her bedroom window, frost crystals formed on the pane and soon the glass was opaque.

Rhea left the window and went and sat at her ice blue dressing table. The mirror’s reflection showed a sad sight; tears were pouring from her cornflower blue eyes. As she cried the tears turned to ice on her porcelain white cheeks. She brushed them off with the back of her hand and they fell to the ground with a light tinkle. Her white blond hair, as fine as spun sugar, was tied back in a plait. The room she sat in was filled with ice statues, but each one had been smashed in anger.

It had been 3 long months since Rhea had been to school, since she’d seen any friends. Her mother and father had to leave her meals by the door of her bedroom for fear that if they had any contact with her it would happen again. Rhea was so lonely. She wished to be able to play carelessly again with her friends, to frolic in the garden or to visit relatives but she knew that would be impossible. She couldn’t bear to hurt someone she loved. Not again.

Suddenly there was a knock at her door. “Yes?” she called.

“A letter arrived for you in this morning’s post,” her mother said through the door.

“A letter?” Rhea asked. She never got letters.

She stood up and walked towards the door and as she did so a small brown envelope slid under the door. As she bent to pick it up she heard her mother’s footsteps hurrying away down the hall.

There were only 2 words on the envelope: Rhea Donner. Her name. She tore the envelope open and read the words on the letter within, a look of surprise and disbelief on her face. Then, she smiled.

 

 

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