Having fed the chickens, she starts up the porch steps as an old red dog comes slinking out from beneath them, his head hanging down as if he is afraid to look anyone in the face. His tail curls in between his legs and he walks as if he has been crippled at one time. The old lady pats his head and says to him, "You poor cowed down thing. You come right on in the house with me. Come on, it's okay."
Gently she coaxes the old hound up the steps and into the kitchen where a stingy little fire burns in the fireplace grate. That same smile crosses her lips and she heaps the fire high with shiny, black lumps of coal until it is roaring and casting lovely colors and shadows all about the room. The old dog slowly lowers his haunches to the floor and resting his head on his paws, is soon asleep, soaking up the welcoming warmth.
She looks out the window and sees that it has begun to snow. " Oh how I do love snow," she says. She loves to watch it fall and cover the ground, hiding all the ugliness, turning everything into a shimmering fairyland. Her face glows in the light of the fire as she goes and throws the back door open and drags up a straight chair. She sits there for hours, just watching it snow.
" Tomorrow I will go and buy myself a new coat and a pretty pair of slippers."
The defiant little smile is a wide, happy grin now.
Creative Writing
Exercise One Fiction
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