Annabelle's Angel
Author: UndeadBeauty

Chapter 2
Annabelle

Annabelle lie in her bed one night, shivering against the brutal cold of a Russian winter, her window's glass pane served no purpose.

The quilt her mother, long passed, had made her, too short now, was her only defense. Her toes stuck out at the bottom, ears red and numb above.

Bravely, she opens one crystal blue eye, than another, deep brown, takes her small hands and rubs at her ears, praying for the smallest flicker of warmth in the most brutal of winters.

Her hands, not as cold as her numb legs, served no purpose either. Annabelle clutched her blanket, and carefully and quickly, sprang from her bed, and onto the floor. She rolled underneath, where it was slightly warmer, and squashed herself against the wall, where her older sister, Mari had a roaring fire to keep warm. She could almost feel the licking flames at her back, and sighed into the imaginary comfort. Her mismatched eyes opened again to the dark space under her bed. She peeled back the corner of the carpet, revealing a small packet of old, worn down matches.

"Please light," she prayed. (In Russian of course)

She struck the book, and a small flame erupted from it's surface, she had burned her fingers, but felt nothing. They were already blue and useless from the cold this morning.

She remembered chopping wood for the fire in Mari's room, the little warmth she received from the exercise, and thought about it, wishing nothing more than to chop wood again.

Anabelle closed her eyes, smelling the foul decay of the match, blown out by the sudden wind.

A tear escaped her blue eye, slithering down her numb cheek and landing with a thud on her wooden floor. Anabelle wished she could be like the tear, born from sadness, released, and then melted into something better.

She closed her eyes and dreamed of standing on the Peter The Great statue in Moscow, directing the crew who were making an Anabelle the Great statue of her own. She dreamed of Mari chopping firewood, shivering on her floor.

For once since mama had died, she smiled, and slept soundly.

 

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