Abigail

This is a story I wrote in the eighth grade, pulled from a repertoire of inner thoughts and morals to live by. It's old and I can't promise the grammar, but enjoy. Please notice that this story is a reflection, not of me, but a reflection on life itself. Most people become confused if they don't understand that tidbit right there.

Abigail

The cold air pierced through the silent night like a sharp knife. No one, not a single person, was there to hear it; and never would be. Not one single person. So lonely was the chilly night that no one dared to step outside of their house for fear they would catch a cold. No one, that is, except for one person. I watched her stare up at the night sky, wrapped in her knitted blanket--worn, the colors faded. It was as if she were waiting for something. But what? What could she possibly be waiting for on a frost-bitten night of December at the young age of twenty-three? Her name was Abigail.
The stars twinkled in such a beautiful array of fantasies and sparkles. So much hope did they bring that it was surely a sight to be seen. The young woman sat still and dared not to move, and I suspected that she never would, not until whatever she was waiting for came. I imagined it was something marvelous but I did not care to risk my health to the frozen air to ask what. My heart went out to Abigail; she seemed so alone and cold. She had neither gloves nor a coat and yet she kept her place. I could imagine a gentle tear rolling down her cheek. Slowly it rolls until she gives a slight blink of her eye and then it drops off her chin and falls to the ground without a sound loud enough for anyone to notice. Just where was she heading? What good did she think she brought by freezing herself to death? What was she waiting for? So many questions that I yearned to ask her, but I just couldn't. I didn't have the courage, the will. I looked into this young girl's soft face and then into her warm, deep blue eyes. She had both and then some. How could she manage to be so brave and so determined when she knew not where she was headed? Even I myself had no type of courage or understanding. I yearned with all my heart and soul that I should obtain what she had, though I knew her not. How could someone so meaningless and unknown have such a great effect on myself and others around her? Others that noticed. I stared at her for hours on end and not once did she give up. Not once did she leave her place. No words were spoken and she had not seen me and yet I learned so much from her.
"Abigail! It's time for dinner!" My mother called from the kitchen.
"Coming!" I replied as I left the frosted-paned window, letting my hand slip away from the pink, satin curtain. On my way to mother I picked up my ragged and worn knitted blanket in which the colors were faded.