Beatrice walked up to the roof, on a calm gentle night, and in her hands she held a book, and a pen. Stars were out with a bright moon, making the snow on the ground shine. She stood at the edge, and her hair blew around with a small gentle breeze in the air. She smiled slightly, then sat down where there was no snow, and she opened the book she had, which was really her diary. She turned it to a empty page and began writing in it with the pen she had, every no and then she looked up and about then back writing.
After awhile she closed her diary, and thought for a moment, and she curled hair around her finger, in thought. After a bit, she opened her diary again and this time she was sketching the world below her. Though it wasn't the greatest, because she was never really good using a pen, but right now she didn't care, she just wants to draw and think about what is going on.
After awhile she closed her diary, and thought for a moment, and she curled hair around her finger, in thought. After a bit, she opened her diary again and this time she was sketching the world below her. Though it wasn't the greatest, because she was never really good using a pen, but right now she didn't care, she just wants to draw and think about what is going on.