This was done in a writing society (University society) induction meeting; I did not return, but I did do this story there. It is new to me, check it out 
The troposphere was now cladded in a slate white cloud. The sky loomed as if attempting to retain a hidden force within pushing its way out. It would be in vane.
Several minutes later she looked up at the snowy sky. All around her the grass blades stood still as if hiding from the frosty predator about to strike from the sky. Maybe if they stood still they would not rouse the tempests fury?
Then the flakes began to glide gracefully to their respective graves, already provided by the uneven soil in which small canyons lay.
Slowly she looked around at her surroundings and steadily more icy patterns fell. A deep sense of anticipation and excitement warmed her soul in the cold.
She wondered, would it settle?
Ahead of her a bird darted towards it's woody home expertly dodging the falling snow. Then her eyes met on a window; its windows were frosted over, the water inside them frozen, obscuring her view slightly.
She moved over to the hedge and drew herself closer to the window and peered in curiously. The first thing she saw was a mantelpiece with pictures on; pictures of her.
A warm fire glowed beneath casting a soft glow about the rest of the room. The cast shadows highlighted the stockings pinned above. A tabby cat curled up in front of the fire looked nothing more than a still silhouette, occasionally fletching it's weapons lazily along the floor. To the right of her limited perspective she saw a portion of a decorated tree.
A tall man then appeared to the left of the fire. He was dressed in a mock tartan dressing gown and dark slippers...he seemed forlorn and succumbed to the arm chair in front of the fire.
It was her father
A smaller woman then approached from the same space her father had done moments before and kneeled on the floor next to the man, it was her mother, as she stretched to stroke the tabby cat she rested her head dejectedly on her husband’s knee. He offered a paternal right hand to comfort her.
The snow was heavy now, but the girl wanted to be inside in the warm with her parents...
But what was wrong with them? Why were their faces long and drawn as if years had been etched in the skin by a careless sculptor, yet to finish his masterpiece; why did they succumb to their current positions with no reluctance or grace? And most pressing of all, why were they spending time together in this most homely scene without their only daughter?
Then her parents both looked directly at her, they would see her and they would smile, and her mother would rush out to come and get her little girl, to save her from the icy maiden above them all...but instead they looked at her and their faces were sorrowful...a tear was clinging to her mothers right, light blue eye.
Maybe the windows were steamed up....it was warm in there and cold out here. Yes that was it. They would notice her though when she came into the room shivering…then she realized she was not shivering at all....even in this cold air she felt how she always did when she slept, warm; but she was awake?
A chill wind began to pick up.
The girl pulled herself from the window and attempted to approach the front of the house, however she began to feel as if she could not move. The wind picked up with a new vengeance and enthusiasm and almost blew her back to where she came from...the woods was it?
She resisted and tried to move forward, but the wind renewed its assault with new vigor.
Then she remembered…she could never come back.
And to the forest it carried her.
