THE GRASS WAS etched in frost. Miniature white crystal blades stood guard around the small dilapidated cottage. Its warm honey brown wood had darkened with the shortening hours of sunlight, having turned a robust and cherry mahogany. As if to match the ground, its roof shimmered, grassy tufts bejeweled in frost, as it tasted the first sip of dawn’s light.
It was so deeply embedded in the woods, surrounded by dark leafless trees that sprouted out like fans, that most people hardly knew it existed. Which is exactly what its inhabitant wanted. If the villages wanted to call her a witch, that was fine with her, as long as they politely left her alone.
Written: 5 Dec 2015
Inspired: frost outside + a little NaNo or Reflection Story + wanting to do something a little special for the 100th day