Author: essenceofthedark

Warning: this is a deathfic, which means that someone will die. Murder will be the theme in this fic, and those who have any objections should not flame it, they should rather just get out of here. Flames will be laughed at, spitted at and fed to my best friend.

Author’s note: I really like this fic, that’s why I posted it here… Um, yeah this fic is the result from a task I got in my first year of high school when I was 16, still young, foolish and hopeless, well that I am still, so (I’m just not 16 anymore…;)… hrrm, but that’s not the point. The point is that I got an A (6on theNorwegian grade-scale) on this text, something I’m very proud over and so I’ve translated it into English and put it up here (I’ve also put up the Norwegian version for those who actually understand that language, if you know that language please take the Norwegian version, it is SO much better; this is written in so bad English that I’m almost ashamed over myself…). The task was: write a short-story with the title Icicles. If you’re wondering; this short-story were inspired of HIM’s song “gone with the sin”, a very beautiful song which I highly recommend everyone to hear.

Enjoy:

I so totally OWN this story and its characters so don’t you dare steal it!!!!

Mona had always liked the winter. Everything was so paranormal then, everything was so white and clean. The icicles were hanging from the branches in the pine forest. The winter was so beautiful, especially this year. She felt so free, so clean deep down in her soul.

Her black clothes gave a sharp contrast against the white pure snow. She always dressed in black nowadays. It just seemed appropriate. She belonged in black, and it suited her. Black was her colour. Her hair, her clothes, her shoes, even her nail polish was black. She could barely remember the time she clad in other than black. Not that she wanted to remember that time, it hurt too much. Actually, it was only memories that hurt these days.

It was a cold evening and the frosty mist stood out before her mouth like steam. Mona liked cold evenings. Not that she was freezing, because she wasn’t. No, what she liked was that everything seemed to be so… unimportant. As if nothing meant something except the winter and herself… and Sindre of course.

The forest was white, as if wrapped in cotton. The icicles were just hanging there like needles of glass that shone with light from all directions.

For a moment she just stood there, taking in the Christmas card-like view. Then she sat down on one of the big rocks that were so typical for this little clearing in the wood. I wonder if Sindre can see this, she thought.

Mona looked down at Sindre. She had always pictured her boyfriend as handsome. Now she saw that she had been terribly wrong. He wasn’t handsome; he was… stunningly beautiful. You couldn’t describe him any other way. He looked like an angel that had fallen down from heaven.

His skin was almost as white as the snow and he lie utterly still. His big beautiful brown eyes were closed and his dark brown hair was very visible under the black hair-colour that was almost washed-out. It was messy and framed his face in an almost supernatural way together with the black hood of his sweater he was wearing. His new-washed jeans were the ones he was so fond of, worn after many years of use. He seemed so peaceful the way he lay now.

She had never thought that red on white could be so beautiful. Mona closed her eyes. She could still remember the way he had kissed her, how lovingly he had looked at her.

Mona breathed deeply in. She felt so light, as if she could fly away every moment. Only her necklace, the long necklace with black leather cord, with a cross that was the other way round on, held her back. Sindre had always told her it suited her. He had even asked where she had bought it.

She took off the necklace lovingly and laid it carefully around his neck. Red and white. Red as blood, white as snow. She thought back on his tears that had ran down his cheeks and his confused expression when his blood had started streaming with the same rhythm as his pulse, she would never forget how beautiful he had been back then. More beautiful than ever.

She laid his hands carefully in a cross over his chest. No frosty mist stood out in front of his face as it did in front of hers. She brushed three hairs slowly from his face. How beautiful he is. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. His skin was so cold, as white as snow. She dried his blood off her hurriedly in the snow. The snow was quickly coloured pink as it mixed with the blood from her hands.

Mona smiled and rose. She looked lovingly at him one last time before she turned to leave. Don’t worry Sindre, we’ll meet again soon. Her clothes had been stained with blood. She would have to wash them when she got home; blood was always so hard to get out of the clothes. Slowly she picked up her schoolbag. She let the knife lie. Then she started on her way home.

The icicles that hung from the branches were so beautiful; the last light of the evening was reflected in them. Mona had always liked the winter. The winter was so beautiful, especially this year…