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In icy caverns of a cruel heart

Short story By: Writing is passion
Mystery and crime


Is it possible that in the icy caverns of a cruel heart lies a glow-worm of tenderness? Follow Abery Kylan, a notorious burgalar, a man so self consumed in grief he takes other things in order to feel once again like a human can he ever regain his humanity along with the banishment of his crookery? When he meets Ava Kolinski his heart leads him to her, can she be the one to purify him out of his depressive state? Find out...


Submitted:Dec 15, 2010    Reads: 32    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Right hey everyone, PLEASE COMMENT & let me no what you think. If I don't know then no more chapters will be up, so please comment (: thankyou! x

Chapter One;

It was midnight. Darkness envelops every inch of the room in it's hold. The bedroom is lavished with ornate furnishings. The icy-blue orbs of my eye catch the scarf on the dresser, illuminated by the silver-wash of the winter moon. I reach for it its silk entrapping my fingers, cold and smooth - I revel in it's tantalizing hold. Frightened breaths escape my weak frame, burning my lungs, drying my throat as I shuffle along the hall. Please don't wake. The teal scarf bunched in my closed fist; white knuckles the only evidence of the scarf in my hand. I slip past a window the pale light brightens my face, the landscape is blanketed in snow, a sheet of white over a fragile mass.

I step through the hall seemingly concious of the creaking wooden panels underfoot, adreneline pumping through my skin. The scarf is teal laced with gold - a divine beauty in itself. The owner will undoubtedly miss such a treausre. Life's tough. The molten glint of the door handle shines obtrusively in the darkness, drawing me to it. I pull it gently, craning for any sounds of waking. The scarf entwined in my fingers as I step through the oak door. The bitter wind meets my face, snapping at my naked cheeks. Darkness engulfs me, I become a shadow in the night. Sheets of crystal white snow and withering trees, sheeted with ice, are my only scenery. I leave my mysterious and powerful imprint in the snow, a reminder of my freight, that'll no doubt be forgotten, covered over. I stand staring at the scarf, the intricat lacing looks pallid under the darkness - no comparison for the natural serenity that surronds my shadow.

Fury sings through my veins. I tear at the material, ripping until it's nothing but raggid remnants on my open palm. Strips of teal lay againist my flesh then cascade to the floor in a fury as a furious breath of bitter wind snaps at me once more. Why is life so cruel? Why can't I have things that them people can relish in, they flash there belongings like candy before a baby, why should they get the luxury of such a divine lifestyle? Am I not worthy? Hot tears slip down my cheeks, I swipe them away with my sleeve, the material stratchy to the softness of my skin. I look around nothing but darkness, a icy cascm of desolation and isolation surrond me in a cruel grip. I start walking, the destination unknown. Snow crunches under my feet, the only sound in the silence of the night. I guess in the icy caverns of a cruel heart there lodges the perpetuity of evil, each materialistic person I've ever encounted seems despondent towards me, so what I stole a scarf, it can be replaced.





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