In the dark, dull city, there was no sight of snow, apart from one picturesque plot of white, gleaming wool. In the middle of the beauty was a snowman, a depressed, sorrowful snowman. Every morning when the sun rose, you could see a faint tear rolling down his frosted cheek, preparing him for the spiteful children he waited to face. Sooner or later they would come. The snowman put his head down to be beaten, but no! he wasn't beaten, for the very first time he was hugged. He put his stick arms around the little boy's back and sobbed.
by Evie Craig (10)
Ryarsh Primary School, Kent
Competition - Once Upon a Time
Copyright remains with the author.