Well, this was a project for my language arts class. We were supposed to do descriptive essay about someone arriving at our doorstep and what they were doing there. It involves a Hetalia character, so I figured that it was somewhat of a fanfic.
The wind howled outside, and I peered longingly out the window. It had been snowing for days on end, cold, white surroundings and loud, restless nights. All I wanted was for it to stop, for the sun to come out, and for the warmth to embrace my body once again. Snapping me out of my thoughts was the sharp 'ding dong' of the doorbell, immediately shooting my thoughts into a spiral of questions. To quench my curiosity, I stood from my place on the worn, brown couch and headed towards the door. Since the house I lived in was a relatively new establishment, the endlessly bright architects that built the place decided that there was no longer a use for a peephole in this day and age, so I was compelled to open the door.
"Uh, hello?" I attempted to make conversation with the man at the door, tall and well-built was he. His smiling face sported a rather prominent nose and striking violet eyes, a sight of which I had never seen in all my days. They were the shiniest shade of purple, swirling deep with emotion, so much so that it seemed that his orbs went on forever. His hair color was that of a dull, platinum blond, almost tan, and his skin was a fair cream color, if I had to guess his ethnicity I would assume that he is European of some sort. He began to speak, his thick Russian accent weaving through his words and confirming my speculation.
"Hello. Do you mind if I come inside? It is very cold out here." Not wanting to leave the man to freeze in the blizzard raging outside, I nodded and let him step foot in my home. He wore a thick, tan scarf bundled neatly around his neck, two strands of the fabric hanging down his back. Upon his long overcoat of light brown, a golden war medal was subtly placed, shaped like a star, a red and white ribbon hanging down, signifying that he was a very important person indeed in the military of the country he called home. I looked down at his feet and noticed long black boots rising to his mid-shin, bunching up the warm pants he covered his legs with. In his black-gloved hand the mysterious man held a lead faucet pipe, leading me to wonder once again what his purpose for arriving on my doorstep was.
"Big brother..." I heard a somewhat feminine, creepy voice leaking from behind the closed door, and saw the visitor stiffen where he was standing. He didn't have the chance to take off his scarf before dashing through my hallway. I followed just in time to see him climb out my window and land with a soft 'floof' on the white snow below.
"Thank you," he said to me before running off. "I think I lost her."
