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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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