Frostbite - River's Trampy Tradegy Contest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
*~ Entry for River's Trampy Tragedy ~*
SONG: NEVERTHELESS - STAY (IN MY ARMS)
Ellie Mae Thompson had been a normal girl, that is until her parents died and left her homeless on Christmas Day. Ellie has nobody accept a certain blue-eyed, barefooted boy named Tom who is deeply in love with her. They have been holding on throughout winter but what will happen on Christmas when Ellie is at her weakest. Er omg if anyone can write me a summary please do, I'm crap at these

Submitted: January 09, 2012

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Submitted: January 09, 2012

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I hate Christmas. It probably sounds odd, almost inhumane but nevertheless, I have and always will detest it. Christmas is basically a time where ‘Santa’ is used to help shops sell shit and help old men perv on little kids. However blunt it may sound, it’s true. Rich kids get everything they want and more and the poorer kids are left upset because they didn’t get anything so ‘Santa’ thinks they’re naughty. That’s another thing; the whole ‘Santa’ ordeal totally promotes lying! Once upon a time I loved winter. I adored the look of snow and how pristine and tranquil everything looked coated in it. Christmas would be the one day of the year when my parents would stay sober enough to wake me up and kiss my nose and hand me a cheap, poorly wrapped present. They were probably awful parents but my old life would be a sanctuary to what I have now. I’d say I used to live in what was 3rd class Britain but it was enough to have a roof over my head, 3 meals a day and if you look at it with an open mind, an education. That’s all I had ever known anyway. I guess the true reason behind my hatred lies with my old life tucked away in a grave somewhere. A couple of years ago my mum died of a drug overdose on Christmas Eve. My dad was so heartbroken that he committed suicide the next day and my life, which was already pretty crap, disintegrated into nothingness.

I was left homeless. Stranded. Alone. Judging by the time of year I thought someone could have helped me, you know, let me sleep in the church or something. I know realise what a stupid naïve thought that was but excuse me for believing that Christmas was about the time of giving back! I’ve spent just over two years smuggling myself into pubs, motels, shops, you name it. I’d have to steal food and clothes and run for my life in case anyone caught me although a couple of times I contemplated the thought of going to prison. When you’ve hit rock bottom it’s funny to say but prison sounds great, TV, food, a bed but I decided against it. Instead I found an old bus shelter in town that was no longer used. I made some money by begging and singing if you could even call it that. There was a boy, homeless like me, who stayed in another bus shelter further down the road. He played a battered guitar and sung a bit too. He had bright blue eyes and messy brown hair that he would always run his hands through. He wore a dirty grey jersey top and tattered Levis that looked around five sizes too small and no shoes. If he had the money to clean himself up he’d probably be a male model with those eyes of his. He was 18, one year older than me although our experiences had aged us in a way nothing else could. At first we didn’t talk much but somehow formed a silent alliance and slowly I found myself telling him everything and vice versa. We’d end up talking about everything, anything, I could tell him anything and be sure he’d listen. Tom, his name was Tom.

It was Christmas Eve and I was feeling like crap, on the verge of adding to the many scars on my pale wrists. It was bitterly cold and the streets were covered in a sharp frost that seemed to whip my skin. If I had the money I would have gone and bought myself a vodka to drown my sorrows or maybe just a Starbucks cappuccino to warm me up. A tipsy looking couple walked by with their teenage looking daughter all holding hands and laughing. It reminded me so much of them and how we could have been as a family that I dissolved into tears and hiccups. I must have been awful to look at because the family sharply turned to stare at me and hastily moved on leading me to erupt in tears again. Barefooted Tom suddenly appeared behind me and pulled me into his arms where I immediately melted. He knew my story and how unstable I was at this time of the year. He was even colder than me, his rosy lips chapped and white, and his feet practically blue! I felt ridiculous in this state in front of him but I just couldn’t stop crying. My big, fat tears rolled down his shirt staining it. Whilst I bawled he kept murmuring incoherent things into my ear continuously. Although I couldn’t hear what he was saying, it instantaneously cheered me up and comforted me greatly.

‘Thank you’, I said, my voice quavering dangerously from all the crying.

‘Shh it’s fine Ellie, no need to thank me.’ He wiped my tears away and held my chin up, forcing me to look directly into his bright blue piercing eyes. ‘Now, are you sure you’re okay? Ohmygosh Ellie you haven’t done anything stupid have you?! Shit, come here,’ He frantically grasped my wrists and gave them a thorough inspection.

‘Tom, no, stop it, I’m fine honestly. I haven’t done anything like that. Sorry I soaked your shirt, Jesus Christ I feel so stupid!’ I hung my head in shame. I hate crying, it makes me feel so vulnerable. A feeling I can no longer afford to have.

‘Ellie, honestly it’s fine. Come on, come here,’ he pulled me into his arms, ‘Listen it’s Christmas, cheer up beautiful.’ It was scary how many feelings just one barefooted boy could make me feel. Suddenly the air became colder and I swear it dropped 5 degrees just like that.

‘Tom,’ I tugged on his sleeve, ‘Tom, will you play me a song? It’ll distract us from the cold’

‘Of course beautiful.’ He pulled up his guitar, shivering as he did so. He begun to sing, his pure voice ringing out into the misty night.

‘You can
Stay in my arms
Until the morning comes
I'll sing this song for you
Stay, until the morning comes again

You can
Stay in my arms
Until the morning comes
Until this storm is through
Stay, until the morning comes again
I'll be by your side

People are the same
We're broken, we're broken
Full of hurtful words
They don't see you like
I see you
Because if they did
They'd know how much you're worth

You can
Stay in my arms
Until the morning comes
I'll sing this song for you
Stay, until the morning comes again.’

He suddenly broke off. ‘Tom, Tom what’s wrong?’ I looked up and much to my surprise I saw tears on his beautiful face.

‘Nothing Ellie, I’m fine but you’ve got to promise me something,’ his tone suddenly grew serious, ‘ Whatever happens tonight you’ve got to promise me you’ll keep safe and live on. No matter what happens you just have to Elle.’

‘Well duh Tom but I mean nothing’s going to happen, what are you on about anyway, I’m going to be fine, so are you and so is everyone, cows, sheep, pigs,’ I babbled on slowly growing hysterical. Nothing would happen to Tom. Nothing. ‘And the hens and.’

I was interrupted by what can only be known as heaven in the form of two lips belonging to a certain Tom. He kissed me like I was a porcelain doll, easily broken but he didn’t deny me any passion either. His lips molded into mine and we were one. It was honestly like magic. It was gentle and rough and perfect and I felt ever so light headed when he broke away.

‘Tom I,’ He covered my mouth with his hand chuckling.

‘Ellie Mae Thompson, you are the most beautiful girl in this freaking entire universe and ever since the day I met you I’ve been.. well I.. I’m in love with you Ellie.’ I was so shocked I couldn’t even look at him. My heart was fluttering like a humming bird and I felt like I’d won the lottery. I looked up him in delight ‘Tom I love you too!’ I exclaimed, ‘I always have, I just never knew how to tell you, I..’ I looked up and Tom had his eyes closed, his head lolling in an odd angle. ‘Er, Tom,’ I prodded him, ‘Tom, Tom, for god fucking sake Tom!’ I shook him violently but he wasn’t responding. ‘Tom you cannot die on me, Christ sake Tom all we’ve been through, you cannot die!’ My voice grew shaky, I didn’t even notice that I was crying or that it was snowing. ‘Tom,’ I collapsed on him,

‘Tom please, Tom. Tom. Oh shit Tom…..’

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On the 25th of December 2009, a barefooted boy named Tom died of hypothermia and no one would ever know.


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