She looked ethereal lying surrounded by the fresh fallen snow as a stark contrast of crimson pooled around her from the blood seeping through the slits in her arms. Her face was tilted towards the sky and her sable brown eyes were as frozen as the air around her. She appeared to be staring off in blank wonder as flakes drifted down and settled on her eyelashes. Her lips turned blue from the frigid temperature. Or was it from the lack of blood? Either way, she was stunning.
She followed his instructions perfectly. She wore only the simple white slip he brought to her and then walked to the spot he selected for her to decorate. While standing at the base of the slope she ran two precise slits from her slender wrists up to the bend of her elbow with a simple razor blade. Slowly she walked a large spiral in the snow, gradually ascending the rise of the small hill allowing her life to drip onto the freshly fallen blanket before lying in the center and creating the most beautiful snow angel he had ever seen. The beauty of this master piece would be destroyed the moment she was discovered by misunderstood eyes. Police would stomp through the art she died for, leaving nothing more than a pink slush. Sadly, it would be gone before the next night fell so he had to enjoy it as much as possible in the time he had left. The story would be on the news, of course, but they would never show the technique or the contrast in color between the snow and her carefully spilt blood. The public would never see the designs or the intense color as it spread outward to color the world around her. She was only for him to marvel at. She was his Venus de Milo. He viewed his master piece for a few more minutes collecting as many details as possible before setting the binoculars aside. From where he stood he had a clear view of her and the art she had created with her life’s blood in the snow. He coaxed out his monster to create an angel. His Snow Angel.