"Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful."
- Norman Vincent Peale
Snow was falling outside my window when I woke up. It was the first snowfall of the winter season and exactly 35 days before Christmas and my 11th birthday.
I went in front of my mirror and brushed my long curly bronze hair, they said I got it from my mother who died as soon as she gave birth to me because of a train accident. I never had a chance to see her even in a picture. Dad burned all of them though I still believed he was keeping some in his room.
My jade green eyes, on the other hand, were identical to my father's, but I couldn't gaze at his eyes because it made me feel so uncomfortable to read the emotions on them, was it hatred or agony? I didn't know.
"Good morning, sweetie, I just finished serving breakfast. Shall we eat?" Aunt Sarah greeted me as I entered the kitchen. She was my father's older sister and never married. She acted as my mother in my almost eleven years of existence.
"Hmm.. Where's Dad, Aunt Sarah?"
"Oh, he left for work early today. Alex, you know your father, he seems to have an important meeting. All the time," she said with a smile.
I smiled back politely. Dad was always like this so I never felt I was his daughter. I was the top student of our class, persevering, friendly and sweet. Everybody in school admired me but he never cared. They thought I was perfect, but only some knew the bitter truth that made the line of perfection unreachable for me.
It was Saturday, no school. After eating, I went upstairs to finish my project but I suddenly noticed the door at the end of the corridor that leads to the attic. That place wasn't really restricted but I had never been there.
I walked to that door, held the doorknob for a few seconds and waited for the fright to come. Nothing came except for curiosity so I opened it anyway. There was a staircase, I stepped slowly that it almost took me eternity before I made it to the attic.
It was dark upstairs but I found the switch of the light quickly. The yellowish light revealed the very large room, and like the attics I watched in movies, it had spider webs and dust everywhere. It was filled with old tables and other furniture, wooden boxes, and the walls were painted peach.
I walked around in hope of finding a picture of my mother. I stopped in front of a small square table with a small black box on top of it. I wiped off the dust covering it with my already dirty hand and it revealed an elegantly script of the name "Heidi." Another wave of interest hit me so I opened the box. Inside was a rotating miniature of a woman playing a piano.
An unfamiliar lullaby began to play. The surrounding began to blur and I heard an irritating and deafening noise, then it was dark, and after that, nothing.