Winter Words (Work in Progress)

Winter is an illusion of beauty, at a glance elegant, luxurious and graceful. Landscapes merge to grey scale, cast with glittering snowflakes and cosy blanketed grey skies, warming log fires tuck us up under woollen blankets, our fingers wrapped around indulgent cocoa and cream. Golden autumn leaves turn pale and crunch beneath our feet, whilst red-breasted robins proudly skip through our gardens; the world falls into a deep sleep waiting for the gentle delicate kiss of Spring to awaken the senses to return to sunlight.

However, the true season is wicked and evil, weaving ice across roads and pavements, blowing sudden blizzards on rambling walkers and trapping the desolate and lonely into their own homes, turning the outside into a rose; the view from your window is glorious and magical, but its touch is as poisoned as a thorn to a finger.

In deepest darkest December, the moonlight throws long stretched shadows across fields and farmland, blades of grass sparkle under wet dew whilst bare broken trees shiver and simper in minus temperatures. Speckles of red berries decorate emerald sharpened leaves on a roadside but the land is sparse, empty and desolate. Cruel winds howl through every crack and crevice, a mountainous region of hills terrorised by desperate souls screaming in agony of the loneliest, bleakest season of the year.

Up to the black skies, a palmful of sprinkled glittering constellations delicately trace round the rays of lunar light, they tell stories of the brave, the strong, the mighty and the powerful. Orion stands proud and tall, his arm outstretched, weapon in hand, his tale is dark and cold of horror, arrogance and bitterness, murdering all around him as only a scorpions sting cast him to the stars. The winter is his wife, the only time he is visible is during these treacherous abandoned months, both callous and heartless to those left wandering the earth.

A young girl sits in her bedroom window, her long scarlet hair plaited down her back with a neat jade ribbon tied at the end. Her harrowing green eyes admire Orion as she dreamily sketches his strong jaw, sharp cheeks and pouted kissable lips, she adores winter and this cruel hunter is nothing but a hero in her eyes. A strong, defined man who maybe heartless, but is protective and vigilant, a warrior that is she yet to receive in her life.

Her eyes glow against a moonlight that throws a cool blue hue over the large back garden, hedgehogs gently roll along, stretching their paws to the sky gleefully basking in the protective shadow that looms above. Foxes slink between bushes, lapping at bird tables, their long bushy tails gently waving from side to side as the darkness brings silence and calm.

Amelie leans forward on her knees and catches one of the creeps of the night standing in the middle of the garden, his razor white eyes glinting as he surveys the empty grassed area around him. His fur is strikingly orange with stripes of white, his ears stood tall and focused, one single paw raised as he hunts his prey. What a beautiful magnificent creature, hypnotised she mindlessly doodles eternity rings on her page.

“Amelie?! It’s time for lights out!” her mothers voice rings from the top of the stairs outside her marginally closed door. She jumps, and hurries to her bed diving under the covers, her linen nightgown gathers around her legs as she tightly pulls the duvet up to her nose.

The hallway light flicks out, the only slither of light is turned out and now only the moonlight gives a sense of ambience to the otherwise dark and foreboding surroundings. Only Amelie’s eyes peer out from under the covers, staring upwards to a smattering of glow in the dark stars that adorn her ceiling above, she smiles calmly to herself, her protector is still somewhat close.


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