A short story.

Most of my stories are based on events and my life in general

She can't do that-can she?"She can't do that--can she"? said Miranda

"It's piddling down with rain and not a star in the sky,she'll be lucky if she doesn't catch her death!", Fiona replied. "But I know she'll do it"

But the night was a special one and she waited until 11.55 and made certain that her husband was tucked up fast asleep.

She had told her friends,of her intentions,the curse must be lifted and the phase of the moon was no respecter of the weather.

Silently and determindly,she gathered her tools, she looked at the skylight window above her and saw the steady,stair rods of rain had turned into shards of silvery ice,hitting the glass like the knives of the fae folk.

A good sign,she thought to herself, and as past memories flooded back in her troubled mind,she remembered,with a fervant love and a purile hatred the things that had happened in her past life.

The persecution was still there,the passion and joy,too.

But somewhere, amongst it all, the deepest of curses still remained to enter her life and cause her pain and suffering still.

Always a person to feel the cold easily,it often felt as if poison was running through the very veins that carried her life blood and she did not reish the thought of removing her clothes.

Oh,it was so easy and comfortable to do this under the sun's comforting warmth, but tonight!

She had worked hard and long in the planning of tonight's task and wasn't going to swap the end product for her warm , inviting bed.

Out she went and layer by layer she stripped the many garments from her body and began.

Each hit of the, dagger like, ice on her bare skin only made her more determined to lift that which ailed her for so many years.

And in a while it was done.

At the moment of the closing,the sleet and hail ceased to fall and from behind a gilt edged cloud the moon rose slowly into view