Penny sat at the very edge of her incredibly long garden, based behind her terraced brown-bricked home, in the frosty winter air of a Scottish village, only a matter of miles North of Edinburgh. The very edge of her garden reached the iced-over town's river, on a deep slope, under Penny's hanging feet a centimetre above the ice.

Penny was a girl who could never argue with her mother, due to the disappointing fact that she could never win the argument. Three years of being a weekly member of her school debating group did not make her any better at persuading her mother, an ex-lawyer, into not making her go outside wearing an oversized body-warmer and a farmyard scarf, disgraceful to humanity, knitted by her 90 year old grandmother, who still seemed to think her granddaughter was 5.

This outfit, this injustice to human rights, degraded Penny into grounding herself into where she was now, and not engaging in long-awaited plans to going round her tiny village with her closest friend, Harriet.

"I could be sitting inside, in stead of choosing a death due to my limbs falling off." Penny muttered to herself, but then shuddered. She'd rather sit here in the snow, than pretend to show an inch of interest in her great-aunt's rambling on how Penny was a 'disappointment to her family'.

Penny stretched out her arm, and picked up a grey pebble. It sat in her hand comfortably, until finding itself skip across the murky water of the not-yet-frozen patch of the river. She picked up another one, as she tripped over her wellington boots, trying to stand up. Instead of skipping it across water, she threw it at the dark green evergreen trees, over looking her from the other side. The pebble clicked as it hit the mouldy, black-brown bark, and hit the edge of something made of stone.

Penny's eyes fixed above the pebble. She saw a white statue; with glaring stone eyes, arms out, and looking as if it was ready to take her. The teenage girl's face paled to the colour of the statue metres away from her.

She could feel her pulse rise, along with her breath, not going at such a steady beat anymore. How did this get here? Penny was certain that last time she looked, literally seconds ago, this angel creature was not. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Maybe it was the weather; Penny could never handle dramatically cold weather. This was insane for a girl of true Scottish blood! Penny was ready to prove to herself that it was just her eyes.

"Penny Pond," an alarmed voice from behind her shoulder gasped, "Don't blink."

That was the moment when Penny Pond, an average fifteen year old girl's quiet, lonely life changed forever.

To be continued.