Crimson and Snowy (Miniminter)

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wasn't the first time he'd been up here, his father had taken him here when he was very young, but he would never do something like that now.

He arrived at a gate, a gold gate. The gate to heaven.

He looked through the gate, trying to seek out anybody that could see him breaking in

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He looked through the gate, trying to seek out anybody that could see him breaking in. He sighed, realising that no one was around. He flew over the top of the gate, and landed on his feet.

He was surrounded by nothing but clouds.

But they were solid, he could walk over them. The air was clear, it wasn't stuffy like he was used to. There wasn't any smog, the environment was bright and the sound was sweet silence.

He continued to walk down this path, standing out due to his black and red attire. Until he finally reached a room. The room was white walled, cream carpeted. White sofas and chairs scattered around the room, and a glass door. He walks over to the door, knocking over a pot of pens in the process.

Simon scrunches his eyes shut, cringing. Luckily, his clumsy arse wasn't heard by anyone, so he continued his snooping.

The glass was tinted, so the only way to see through it, was to open the door. He opened the very heavy door, and was welcomed with a beautiful garden path.

Of course 'beautiful' wasn't the word he would use first

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Of course 'beautiful' wasn't the word he would use first. Sickly sweet would be his first choice. The glass door shut behind him. A flash surrounded Simon, he looked down at his clothes, them now turning white.

"shit"

He cursed in his head. That was his favourite black and red jacket. Bird chirping instantly became apparent to him. Even though no birds were in sight. He started walking down the winding gravel track, his shoes scuffing the stones as he traveled.

He looked around at the flowers. They were alive, and thriving. Any flowers he had seen up to this point, were dead, or dying. These flowers were pink, green, blue, purple, every colour you could think of. His flowers were black and grey.

The sound of someone singing was suddenly all he could hear. It was faint, but he could hear it. Him being the curious George he was, he followed the sound. The voice getting louder and louder. He could tell it was a girls voice.

Miniminter, Calfreezy, Wroetoshaw and Willne imaginesWhere stories live. Discover now