Note: The title isn't yet permanent since I don't quite think it fits - if you have any title suggestions, you can critique that also! xD

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*Notice: Some things aren't italicized currently since I directly copied and pasted this from my document <3 So please, don't critique about the italic issues lol

Without further ado, let's begin the wip of the story!

Delicate Memories: Part 1

The hill held many memories.

The girl watched it with her careful, stern gaze—her eyes rested worriedly on her little sister, her heart racing anxiously. She could feel her pulse rattling through her body. The girl wished that she could help her little sister pull that awfully large two-person sled up the hill, but she couldn’t. No. She was never going to step on that hill again. It was hard enough gazing directly at it.

She only watched her little sister who was grunting with the effort of hauling the sled up the towering hill, because helping her sister would mean stepping on that hill, and ever since she had passed, she had vowed to never venture onto that hill again. Never ever. Not once, not twice, not never.

Eira, her little sister with bright hazel eyes and braided light brown hair, had finally accomplished climbing onto the snowy hill. She was now gazing down at Amethyst, the girl, with such heavy sadness — she looked as if she was nearly about to cry. But her jaw only tightened as she opened her mouth to speak. “Come sled with me, Amethyst,” Eira called hopefully, clasping her hands together as if she was praying. After all, Amethyst had not played with her sister or even celebrated Christmas after that year. “Please, Ames!” Eira added pleadingly, using her nickname for Amethyst as a cunning bribe. “I’m too scared to do it all by myself.”

Amethyst gave her sister credit — the hill was huge. But she still swallowed nervously as she prepared her response. Another excuse. Another lie. Even though Eira knew the truth. Amethyst still didn’t want to admit her fear out loud. Instead, she told her younger sister, “I’m cold. And besides, Father only told me to watch you.” She paused, trying to look away from Eira’s heartbroken expression as she continued. “I’m sorry. I-I don’t want to go sledding right now.”

Eira frowned as she muttered silently, “Oh, you never want to go sledding.” Amethyst shifted her feet guiltily. She raised her voice. “But you’re wearing the same thing as me. And I’m not cold, so why should you be?” Eira challenged, her voice sharp as she pointed firmly at Amethyst’s outfit.

Amethyst blinked. “I guess I have a different body temperature than you. Or maybe your skin is thicker than mine.” She shrugged, pretending to be confused. Stop lying, Amethyst thought. She knows anyway, so just tell her the truth! But her mouth didn’t obey, and it was too late anyway. Eira was already scowling and glowering down at her. The guilt held her down like a heavy stone in her stomach, and she tried to focus her gaze on a small tree in the distance to get away from the horrible feeling.

Thankfully, Eira didn’t protest. Instead, she avoided Amethyst’s gaze and began to push the sled into the snow before taking off down the long, awfully large hill. Too large for a little girl to be going down alone, but yet she was. Amethyst sighed with relief, attempting to push away her guilt. She was safe. It was over. No more lies, at least for today.

When Amethyst was a tiny girl, during Christmastime Mother would always take her sledding right as the snow began to pour into their small village in Utah. Mother would always take her sledding specifically on the large hill that Eira was riding currently—except Mother would always sit next to her on the sled and guide her carefully. Amethyst had always been too scared to go down the hill alone when she was little.

A few days before Christmas years before, Mother had gone on a mountain hike with a few of her closest friends. Mother always loved the snow and nature, she loved every single thing about it, and she didn’t care what season it was — she would always be going hiking. Amethyst had believed that she would see her Mother again, just after that hike, and collapse back into her mother’s warm arms, but it never happened. Right when Mother had been making her way down the mountain with her friends, a landslide of snow had fallen on her and she was buried underneath. It took many hours to get her out. When the rescue team had successfully gotten her away from the monstrous pile of snow, they discovered that she had frostbite. Deathly frostbite, the kind that spread quickly. Mother had been ordered to stay in the hospital for weeks. The frostbite was so severe along with some of the other illnesses she had picked up, Amethyst and her family were not allowed to see Mother. She had been so close to dying for a few months that there was not an open time to visit her. Mother had missed Christmas that year. And then Mother had passed away, and Amethyst had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Amethyst swallowed as she recited the story in her head. Perhaps that’s the reason why I think about her so much. Maybe it’s because I never got to say my final words.

Ever since that moment, Amethyst had hated Christmas. She hated the snowy landscape and she hated everything about the winter season. She considered the snow as a bad omen, a sign of death. And she wasn’t wrong to believe it because it was the snow’s fault that Mother had died. The snow had decided to kill her. And why would it want to kill her? Mother was the most wonderful person I have ever known.

The questions still surged through her head. Amethyst had never understood death. She never understood why it had to happen, and she never understood why it had to happen so quickly. She never understood why death had to cause so much grief.

A shriek pulled Amethyst away from her daydreaming, and her eyes widened as she whipped around to find her sister losing control of the sled and crashing into a thick pile of snow. The memories began to rebuild in her mind: Mother’s laugh. Mother’s smile. Mother’s warmth. No. She couldn’t break now, not when her sister needed her.

“Amethyst, help!” Eira wailed. Amethyst began to run, she ran as fast as she could—but by then, it was too late. Once Amethyst reached the pile of snow, Eira’s eyes were already fluttering closed. Eira let out a cold breath of air before fading into unconsciousness. Her cheeks were flushed red with numbness, and Amethyst watched with horror just for a second before picking her sister up carefully in her arms.

No. Not again. Not like Mother.

Amethyst began to pray.

* * *

Eira felt dizzy. Cold. Alone.

There was someone beside her. She squinted, but everything was blurry. Perhaps it was Mother. Perhaps Eira had already died. The frozen pile of snow could’ve been cold enough to kill her—after all, she had a small body, so any sickness that entered her system would spread quickly. She shivered, pressing closer to her blankets and squeezing her hands together to try and keep warm. Eira’s thoughts were bitter: Perhaps if Amethyst had been on that sled with me, I wouldn’t be like this right now.

Her vision suddenly felt focused. She felt . . . warm. It was a feeling that she hadn’t felt in a long time—though she couldn’t remember how long she had been in this freezing state. She smiled gratefully and glanced up at her sister, who was leaning over her. Amethyst’s eyebrows were furrowed, but she looked relieved. Eira did too. She had almost thought that she had passed on into the afterlife, and Mother was the one watching over her. That would’ve been better, in some ways, but she was still glad she was alive.

“What day is it?” Eira demanded immediately, ignoring the dizziness and pounding sensation in her head as she sat up. “How long have I been knocked out like this? Oh, did I miss Christmas or something important like that?” she asked, suddenly feeling her hopes drop. What if she had missed Christmas? No . . . that wasn’t possible. Amethyst refused to celebrate Christmas ever since Mother had died, and Father had tolerated it.

Amethyst handed her a cup of hot cocoa, and Eira sipped it silently. “It’s the night before Christmas Eve,” Amethyst responded in her soft voice. “Well, it’s technically December twenty-third, if you wish to be more exact.”

Eira felt herself smile with relief. “So . . . so I didn’t miss Christmas?” she stammered.

Amethyst frowned. “No, of course not.” She sighed impatiently. “You shouldn’t be worried about that, anyway. Your cheeks are all frosty! You look half-frozen. You need to be more careful next time, Eira. This is why you don’t sled down big hills like that—”

Eira ignored her sister. “Are we celebrating Christmas this year, Ames?” she asked hopefully. “I hope we are. That’d cheer me up so much.”

Amethyst looked away, and Eira spotted guilt bubble in her eyes. Amethyst used her dark hair to cover her face as she whispered, “No, Eira. I’m sorry.” Eira’s hopes plummeted as fast as they had risen.

“Just because Mother isn’t here doesn’t mean that we can’t celebrate it,” Eira snapped angrily. “You should know that by now, Amethyst.”

Amethyst bit her lip. She didn’t respond, but her voice became stern. “Get some rest, Eira,” she said coldly.

“But—” Eira’s protest was cut short as Amethyst repeated her sentence.

“Get some rest, Eira.”

Eira pressed her lips together, turned away, and buried herself under the blanket, hoping that Amethyst couldn’t see her furious tears.

Hm. Firstly, descriptions are quite exquisite if I say so myself. I don't see a particular excess of descriptive language, although the adverbs could be toned down. Then again, I am not one to speak, as I do that often as well. Overall, this earns a 10/10! Motivational, touching, a title that matches both the theme and the tone, flashbacks that feel real and are properly timed, events that seem to go both feverishly fast and dreadfully slow due to the flashbacks, making them feel like daydreams. I think the only disappointing thing about this is my hideously long runoff sentence!

MysticScratches wrote:

Hm. Firstly, descriptions are quite exquisite if I say so myself. I don't see a particular excess of descriptive language, although the adverbs could be toned down. Then again, I am not one to speak, as I do that often as well. Overall, this earns a 10/10! Motivational, touching, a title that matches both the theme and the tone, flashbacks that feel real and are properly timed, events that seem to go both feverishly fast and dreadfully slow due to the flashbacks, making them feel like daydreams. I think the only disappointing thing about this is my hideously long runoff sentence!

Thanks Astrum! That means a lot. Do you have any examples of the adverbs? I know something is off about this piece - like I'm adding too much somewhere - so that might be it . . . xD