Shivering in a sudden ague, he paced slowly as he watched the first frosts set their marks on the cheek of the forest trees, atop the gambrel roof, then down the rough pavement.
He loathes winter. A time when the white plague of coldness would make a massacre of all nature’s glory and turn the trees to naked frames, bleach the bony bare cadaver until the snow covered things up, and remind him how he lost the apple of his eyes.
“Eight years, my love. I still remember the day when you looked me in the eye and I’d feel the warmth that flowers must have felt when they bloom through the snow, under the first rays of the sun. Every single day is winter to me—cold and dead. I miss the sunrays. I miss you.”
He left this merry place of people and balloons and hurried to the graveyard. With heart in despair, he plunged into agony as he withered in the cold white snow before her tombstone.
Better late than never! 😛
Here’s for Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt inspired by Dee Lovering’s photo. Read more stories here.
July 27, 2015 at 2:23 pm
Dear Maria,
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. A lot of feeling in this piece.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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July 28, 2015 at 2:50 am
Thank you Rochelle! I enjoy your prompts.
Shalom. 🙂
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July 27, 2015 at 3:47 pm
That central paragraph where the character speaks is near perfection.
Thus the story shines, very well done, Tay.
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July 28, 2015 at 3:00 am
A man’s cry to a lost love can be a scythe to one’s heart. I’m glad you like it Tay. Have a great day,Maria.
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July 27, 2015 at 8:45 pm
A very poignant story, with vivid descriptions of the frosty wnter landscape.
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July 28, 2015 at 3:01 am
Hello Millie! We never have winter in the country, I’m glad I did justice to it. Thank you.
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July 27, 2015 at 8:54 pm
Much better late than never. I was later, but not necessarily better!
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July 28, 2015 at 3:07 am
I suddenly missed a good friend while reading your story. I wonder how it would be running under the snow. 🙂
Thanks for dropping by, Maria.
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