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  • Writer's pictureLittle Thoughts Press

A Magical Winter by Issy Mooney


Two turtles on the edge of a pond
(via Wix media)

 

I woke up, the sound of crackling logs making me smile. The buzz of my family arguing about whether we should have bacon and egg or sausage sandwiches made me laugh a little. I got up, pulled on my jeans and checked shirt and went into the kitchen. My family seemed to have reached a decision to have sausage because there were sausages sizzling in a pan in the corner and Lilly (my little sister) was watching the TV over by the sofa. I went over and sat with her and saw that (to no one’s surprise) she was watching Malory Towers, a show that she had become addicted to a few weeks ago.

Mother said “Sausage ok for breakfast? I’ve got some sausages on but I can do bacon if you want.”

“Sausage is perfect Mum,” I called back across the kitchen.

I looked out the window and a glorious day was out the window. The snow was coming down in gentle flakes that rested on the lawn and the trees in the forest outside the log cabin we were staying in. I couldn’t wait to get out in the snow and go exploring.

“Mum,” I called across the kitchen, “Can I text Mollie and see if she wants to go to explore the woods?”

Mollie is my best friend from school and she had come away on holiday. She was staying in the next cabin along from us. She was there with her little brother and parents. I knew she was just as excited as I was about seeing the woods that surrounded the cabins we were staying in.

“Sure,” called back Mum. “Just don’t be late back for tea because your father will kill you if you are!”

I ran back to my room and grabbed my phone. Mollie replied within seconds and soon we both had our boots and coats on and were by the edge of the trees we were about to enter.

The snow glistened on the trees like powder, the frosty path calling to us as we ran into the woods.

“It looks magical,” said Mollie “I can’t wait to see what’s there!”.

For some reason the trees seemed to whisper in a language that I didn’t understand.

“Can you hear that? The trees seem to be calling to us!” I said to Mollie.

“ I can hear it too!” replied Mollie, turning back to me. We walked further into the forest, marveling at what we were seeing. It felt like something amazing was going to happen. We walked for what felt like forever when I thought I saw something silver whip out of sight.

“What was that?” I asked Mollie.

“I think it was an animal,” replied Mollie, “Let’s see what it is!”

We walked on, looking around for what we had seen. We only had to search for a few minutes before we found what we had seen before. It was so bright we had to wait for a second for our eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw something I never thought I would see: A unicorn, its silver mane swishing down its neck. Its glossy coat shining in the dancing light of the snow.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said to Mollie. “I never thought I would see one!”.

“No one will believe us if we tell them though,” replied Mollie. We both wished we had our phones with us, but we had both left them at the cabins. We approached the unicorn and touched its mane. We both exclaimed in delight. We wished we could take it back to our cabins but we knew that we would have to leave it back in the woods.

I looked back down at my watch, which I had put on earlier. “We should be getting back to the cabins! It’s nearly time for tea!” I called over to Mollie.

“Oh yes we had better be off!” she called back. We stroked the unicorn’s mane in farewell and said we would return tomorrow (or as soon as we could) and left. We walked back through the forest, but we didn’t notice where we were going because all we could think about was the glorious sight we had just seen.

When we got back to our cabins, I saw that my father was putting the dinner on the table. “You’re just in time,” he said to Mollie and me. “Mollie, your parents have just got here with your brother.”

We rushed inside and took off our coats and boots and put on our jumpers and sneakers. The smell of the cooking tickled our nostrils. We all sat at the table and ate, eating until we felt like we would pop.

After we had all finished our food, we (me and Mollie) made hot chocolates and we curled up by the fire for the rest of the evening. We were so cosy that we even forgot to try to convince everyone that we really had seen a unicorn, but we knew that we would tell everyone in the morning. All cosy by the fire, everything started to blur and I fell asleep, warm and dry by the fire of our log cabin.

 

Isobel Mooney is 12 years old. She has been inspired to start writing by her Aunty Ree, who is writing poetry again after a break. She loves the Harry Potter series of books and anything that has a magical twist to it. Isobel’s poem, “A Christmas Fair,” appears in Little Thoughts Press Issue One: Magical Winter.

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