Categories > Original > Humor
Skit & The Snow
0 reviewsRated for language =) Character development of my darling Skittykins.
0Unrated
Skit lay awake in bed, her ipod clutched tightly in her hand that rested above the covers, and the sweet music filling her mind with metaphors and painting a beautiful picture that she longed to believe in. Her brown hair spread lazily across her pillow, which was a dark red to match her duvet, and a few strands hung delicately across her face.
None of her many fairy lights were on and the blinds drawn, even so the room was strangely light – casting interesting shadows upon her face. Her skin looked even paler in the dim light, and her eyes wider and more childlike. Her irises appeared black, rather than their normal medium blue with the few flecks of green towards the pupil. All in all, she looked strange – lying calmly on her bed gazing at the ceiling with eyes that looked almost completely back. An image that was further enhanced by the fact that her eyes weren’t framed by her black-rimmed glasses. The glasses were instead placed neatly upon the small table beside the head of her bed.
Eventually she sighed, a hand was extracted from the mess of blankets, sheets and duvet which then spider-walked across the bedside table until it stumbled upon the glasses. The hand then returned to the bed and began the tedious task of removing sleep from her eyes without dropping either ipod or glasses. A task that Skit seemed strangely good at.
Once the glasses were firmly placed upon her nose, Skit kicked away the covers and pulled herself out of bed, mumbling incoherently to the empty room. After the customary stretch-and-yawn session she carefully walked over to the largest window, which looked out onto the backyard. Stifling another yawn, she opened the blind.
What she saw caused her expression to change from why-the-fuck-am-I-up-at-this-time to oh-fucking-hell-it-fucking-snowed! She spun round on her toes once before randomly selecting some clothes, hurriedly pulling them on then quietly scampering from her room and down to flights of stairs to the kitchen – where she found some suitable shoes, a scarf and a hat that looked warm enough to withstand some snow.
With a small squeal she opened the kitchen door and entered the small pantry type thing that contained an awful lot of bottles and boxes that she didn’t much care about right now. Instead she was fumbling with the multiple keys to the back door – crime rates were fairly high, and better safe than sorry right? With another excited squeal she unlocked the back door and jumped out onto the back porch – resulting in a large spray of snow to cover most of her, and the a lot of the wall, and door, behind her. She let out a small giggle before vaulting over the porch rails, after all what was the point in steps huh?
Skit landed, nearly cat like – except she stumbled into a holly bush, in the corner of a nearby flowerbed. She let out a single ‘fuck!’ before standing at the edge of the flowerbed, facing towards the house, and falling backwards onto the three inches of snow that covered the lawn. As she fell, a large contented smile was plastered on her face and she sighed happily.
After lying on her back for a while, Skit began to move her arms and legs – creating her very own Snow Skit. With considerable skill, she leapt forwards, aiming to the left – and the safety of the porch steps (maybe steps do have a use…). And promptly fell flat on her face, but she just hopped back up like a bouncy ball and began laughing hysterically at herself, and the fact that she was strange enough to come out into the backyard at four am in the fucking morning and make a snow angel.
But Skit was just like that – the dictionary definition of compulsive and almost certainly erratic. She stood on the porch steps for ten minutes before the dark grey, but somehow light, sky began to spew the small white flakes that evoked such joy in people like Skit.
She turned her back on her snow angel and moved back up to the porch door, where she stood for a moment, absorbing the natural perfection and beauty of the moment. And with one final glance at her fallen angel she walked back into the house, as if it was perfectly normal to come in at 4am covered in snow and beaming like a five year old on Christmas morning.
And you know what? After the snow angel, Skit slept for more than 3 hours without waking up and cursing her existence. Somehow she was soothed, satisfied, whatever it was she felt a hell of a lot better. And when it snows, oh boy does Skit now. And every time she vaults the porch rails, falls backwards from the edge of the flowerbed and makes her Skit angel.
And every morning after she comes down to breakfast, contentment emanating from her like an aura, and every time Jer smiles knowingly and winks. For only he knows that Skit has a strange fetish for snow. And every morning their parents wonder how the hell a perfect snow angel was made on their lawn, just right a bit from the porch steps.
And I guess they’ll never really know – because Skit is somewhat ashamed of her snow fetish.
I love writing for Skittykins xP
None of her many fairy lights were on and the blinds drawn, even so the room was strangely light – casting interesting shadows upon her face. Her skin looked even paler in the dim light, and her eyes wider and more childlike. Her irises appeared black, rather than their normal medium blue with the few flecks of green towards the pupil. All in all, she looked strange – lying calmly on her bed gazing at the ceiling with eyes that looked almost completely back. An image that was further enhanced by the fact that her eyes weren’t framed by her black-rimmed glasses. The glasses were instead placed neatly upon the small table beside the head of her bed.
Eventually she sighed, a hand was extracted from the mess of blankets, sheets and duvet which then spider-walked across the bedside table until it stumbled upon the glasses. The hand then returned to the bed and began the tedious task of removing sleep from her eyes without dropping either ipod or glasses. A task that Skit seemed strangely good at.
Once the glasses were firmly placed upon her nose, Skit kicked away the covers and pulled herself out of bed, mumbling incoherently to the empty room. After the customary stretch-and-yawn session she carefully walked over to the largest window, which looked out onto the backyard. Stifling another yawn, she opened the blind.
What she saw caused her expression to change from why-the-fuck-am-I-up-at-this-time to oh-fucking-hell-it-fucking-snowed! She spun round on her toes once before randomly selecting some clothes, hurriedly pulling them on then quietly scampering from her room and down to flights of stairs to the kitchen – where she found some suitable shoes, a scarf and a hat that looked warm enough to withstand some snow.
With a small squeal she opened the kitchen door and entered the small pantry type thing that contained an awful lot of bottles and boxes that she didn’t much care about right now. Instead she was fumbling with the multiple keys to the back door – crime rates were fairly high, and better safe than sorry right? With another excited squeal she unlocked the back door and jumped out onto the back porch – resulting in a large spray of snow to cover most of her, and the a lot of the wall, and door, behind her. She let out a small giggle before vaulting over the porch rails, after all what was the point in steps huh?
Skit landed, nearly cat like – except she stumbled into a holly bush, in the corner of a nearby flowerbed. She let out a single ‘fuck!’ before standing at the edge of the flowerbed, facing towards the house, and falling backwards onto the three inches of snow that covered the lawn. As she fell, a large contented smile was plastered on her face and she sighed happily.
After lying on her back for a while, Skit began to move her arms and legs – creating her very own Snow Skit. With considerable skill, she leapt forwards, aiming to the left – and the safety of the porch steps (maybe steps do have a use…). And promptly fell flat on her face, but she just hopped back up like a bouncy ball and began laughing hysterically at herself, and the fact that she was strange enough to come out into the backyard at four am in the fucking morning and make a snow angel.
But Skit was just like that – the dictionary definition of compulsive and almost certainly erratic. She stood on the porch steps for ten minutes before the dark grey, but somehow light, sky began to spew the small white flakes that evoked such joy in people like Skit.
She turned her back on her snow angel and moved back up to the porch door, where she stood for a moment, absorbing the natural perfection and beauty of the moment. And with one final glance at her fallen angel she walked back into the house, as if it was perfectly normal to come in at 4am covered in snow and beaming like a five year old on Christmas morning.
And you know what? After the snow angel, Skit slept for more than 3 hours without waking up and cursing her existence. Somehow she was soothed, satisfied, whatever it was she felt a hell of a lot better. And when it snows, oh boy does Skit now. And every time she vaults the porch rails, falls backwards from the edge of the flowerbed and makes her Skit angel.
And every morning after she comes down to breakfast, contentment emanating from her like an aura, and every time Jer smiles knowingly and winks. For only he knows that Skit has a strange fetish for snow. And every morning their parents wonder how the hell a perfect snow angel was made on their lawn, just right a bit from the porch steps.
And I guess they’ll never really know – because Skit is somewhat ashamed of her snow fetish.
I love writing for Skittykins xP
Sign up to rate and review this story