Snow Angel

I wrote this one in 2011 for a contest. I got a ribbon. Go me![= Enjoy.
Schawty
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 On a warm winter’s day, a little girl ran outside to play in the snow. Her chocolate brown hair flew like streamers when she ran, then clung to her back when she stood still. The little girl leaped down the snow-covered steps and swiftly landed in a pile of snow. The little girl laughed, and her laughter seemed to be the light ringing of bells. The squirrels and the rabbits came to watch the little girl play, and they laughed with her. The little girl grabbed a handful of snow, and threw it up in the air, smiling. The snow landed peacefully in her hair. The gods laughed with her, and they let it snow. The little girl giggled and clapped her hands as the snow continued to fall and land on her, all around her. She was no more than four. The little girl picked up more snow, smiled, and then shoved her face into the snow, giggling and laughing, joined by the forest animals. Deer and chipmunks came to watch, too. The little girl lifted up her face, and smiled.

Her cheeks were a rosy pink, and stood out to the rest of her face. Her eye lashes were as black as coal and longer than anyone she has ever encountered. Her blue-green eyes showed happiness and laughter, but if one looked deep enough, they could see the fear and emptiness that lies within. Her lips were not just thin lines, but they weren’t as full as an elder’s lips would be. Her red lips her perfectly placed, shown, and always were glossy.

The little girl placed the snow back down, and wrote her name into the snow with her small, frail index finger. She sprung up, and landed in the snow on her back. The little girl waved her arms and legs to make a snow angel. She made the angel like it was her nature. Still watching, the squirrels, rabbits, deer, and chipmunks laughed for her and smiled with her. With every sweep of her arms and legs, snow leaped outwards to their new neighboring snow. The little girl got up, and looked down at her snow angel that she had just created. “I love being an angel,” she whispered. She looked up at the sky, admiring the sunset, and she could hear the gods calling her name, telling her it was time.

The sunset was as pink as the outside of a dragon fruit, with wisps of orange in between. The top was a violet purple, and the cotton-candy blue blankets blended the purple with the pink and orange. Little yellow spots were sprinkled in the sunset, which the sinking sun produced. A tear of joy rolled down her cheek, and she knew she must return home. The stairs appeared before her, after becoming revealed in an ocean of clouds. The little girl took one step onto the white-marbled stairs, and looked back, though she knew she shouldn’t. She saw her happiness that she is being forced to leave behind. She saw the loneliness that she was leaving the animals with. She saw her snow-angel, now laying lifeless into the snow-covered ground. The little girl knew what to do, and she looked up at the top of the staircase. She could see the gates and the guards. She could see the doves and the petals. She smiled softly, the bells rung, and she began her last journey upwards.