"And then, after she chased after him, the real magic happened—thousands of colorful butterflies burst forth behind her like magical powder, each flying in their own direction. In the end, she caught up to him, opened his hand, and placed a plastic heart-shaped lump inside to forever protect him. He clenched his fist and exhaled, and she grabbed his other hand and led him back with her.

They realized that making mistakes was an inevitable part of life. Forgiveness, though not easy, was the healthiest way to heal a foolish, rash wound that had to happen. He kissed her on the corner of her lips, and then they lay down on the grass to watch the meteor shower. At that moment, she didn't have a single wish in her head. She didn't need anything else in life.

And he fervently prayed that that moment would never disappear, that it would freeze in the flurry of happiness, in the warmth of thoughts and the understanding of the insignificance of human life compared to the universe. And so they remained together, eternally sealed in this snow globe, on this warm July night. Now you keep their secret and hope that they don't fall into oblivion and that their story never ends."

"I like it, Daddy, thank you so much! Let me warm it up before you put it on the shelf," ten-year-old Sandy said.

"Here you go, help yourself. Although the purity of your heart already reaches my hands from there, I know they're surely already glad and warm," the father said.

She gazed at the round piece of glass. She saw a tiny darkness on the roof of the small pink house. The darkness of the chimney. And then she felt something pulling her with serious force until it sucked her into the globe, through the chimney. She was falling for a long time, feeling grit and dirt around her. The air was dry, if that thing around her could even be called air. Finally, she found herself on the parquet floor, coughing and spitting out dark smoke. Her cheeks were smeared with soot, her hair disheveled, without the bow, which she must have lost along the way.

There was no one in the house. This cottage could more aptly be called a room than a house. She got up to take a walk and explore the shack. It contained a corner with a kitchen, a fireplace, and two armchairs with a small table between them. There was a lit candle on the table, not much left of it, maybe another half hour, maybe less, and it would burn out. She knew she had felt cold when she had been “descending” down the chimney, but now she was starting to feel hot. She felt it mostly on her scalp and back.

She turned around and saw that the fireplace was now blazing with a bright orange fire. She didn't understand what was happening. She opened the door and realized that it was nighttime. Strange, round snow was falling. She stretched out her hand to feel the flakes and saw that they didn't have their usual shape. They were round. And they didn't melt. Like pieces of Styrofoam. Soft, flexible. Fake.

Stolen story; please report.

What's happening, she thought. Did I end up in the cottage from the snow globe? No... This must be a dream. Yes! I must have fallen asleep, there's no other explanation! Hmm... But why am I suddenly so hot?

Irritated, feeling helpless, she ran outside and began to slap her cheeks, to pinch and hit herself, doing all that in the hope of waking up from the dream. But nothing special, except for the pain she felt doing it, happened. She returned hopelessly inside. The fireplace had burned out, and only a thin smoke was seeping up the chimney. And the candle... She screamed when she saw the flame of the candle rising to the ceiling and starting to blacken the roof of the cottage.

The candle was burning out quite fast, and at the same time, she felt an inexplicable pain spreading from her neck to her shoulders, all along her spine. She fell to her knees and banged her face on the parquet. She started shaking as if in shock, hugging her knees, curled up on the threshold of the wooden cottage from her snow globe which she had just warmed with her palms in her bed. And then the capillaries in her eyes swelled, her neck swelled, and then she let out a final cry, after which the spasms subsided.

15 minutes earlier

"Sandy, can you hear me? Sandy, sweetheart?! Wake up!" the father rushed to the phone and called an ambulance.

Then he returned and put his hand on her forehead. She was burning with fever. She started talking in her sleep:

"What's happening? No! No!!" she screamed.

Convulsions began. Prominent veins appeared on her forehead from the effort. Foam came out of her mouth. The bed beneath her was wet within a few minutes. She tossed her head back and forth, hitting it against the pillow. The father cried and comforted her.

"Everything will be fine, pumpkin, just hold on! Help is on the way! Everything will be fine, do you hear me?!"

Then her neck swelled and prevented air from reaching her lungs. She started to choke. He watched, helpless, as his daughter fought for air.

And then everything fell silent.

She stopped twitching.

Foam dripped from the corner of her mouth.

She lay lifelessly, drenched in cold sweat.

The father, with a monotone line that represented his lips, walked to the dining room, took the hunting shotgun from the closet, and inserted a cartridge with buckshot inside.

The medical team from the emergency hurriedly approached the door of the house. They knocked on the door, and shortly after they heard a deafening gunshot. They burst in and saw the father lying in bed with his dead daughter. At first, they weren't sure it was him, as half of his face was disfigured.

"Daddy, come see what I made!"

When he approached, she told him to close his eyes.

"Stretch out your hand. Here you go, this is for you. Wait. Mom! Close your eyes and stretch out your hand. Here you go, Mom, this is for you. Now both of you open your eyes!"

The happy parents looked at the tiny plastic lumps in green and pink heart shapes, directed their gazes at each other, and kissed.

"Come here, little one, come to us."

And so the happy family spent a magical moment in each other's arms, by the wooden table where three identical candles were burning endlessly, in a small wooden cottage where real snow was falling, with real snowflakes.

[https://img.wattpad.com/story_parts/1424636063/images/17b5ab48aee13116481164047528.jpg]