Not even Christmas and New York was enwrapped in a blizzard. The
streets were all devoid of life except for the small black figure that
swayed as it walked. This embodiment of filth teetered across the
cobblestones, holding a thin rag tightly between its chapped hands and thin
arms. A fast gust of wind sent the figure tumbling to its knees and brushed
the only source of warmth from its body. The thin rag those chapped hands
were trying so desperately to cling to had floated up to the sky and
drifted somewhere down the block but looked miles away to the sad eyes of
this child. A girl was now revealed, trying rigorously to crawl towards an
alley on all fours, grasping at her head as the world spun around her.
Latching on to the icy stones beneath her, she worked her way towards the
alley she had spotted moments before. The wind stopped in the closed area
and only small sprinklings of snowdrifts lined the side of the alleyway.
The girl curled up close to her ragged skirt and held onto her self and
waited for morning to come, too weak to move but too scared of never waking
up to let her self fall asleep.
