176 t h D a w n , S n o w f l a k e s , S t i n g
"I am the snow that falls on you, covers your footprints, misleads you to rocky cliffs and treacherous forests, hides your heart, makes you white, and stings your scars."
- The Snow That Vowed Revenge
Snow was painful.
It didn't give you pain. It is pain.
White flakes of hatred and betrayal that fell on him and her, and she was shivering beside him, the lost starlight hovering between the cloudy sky.
It was Christmas and maybe more than a festival that tried so very hard to spread love, and was, for the part, mostly successful, but with a sorrowful person like him, it only held a string of painful memories, and they kept replaying in his mind like a tune stuck on the gramophone.
He was a lark in the morning sky, she was vulture that fed on broken minds. She couldn't help it. Time was what it took to change a lump of clay to an ugly pot.
Maybe the snow fell, so that it could take revenge for all those days that were made painful by people who were heedless to the sensitivity of people, and the clouds and the moons and the suns around them.
Revenge was sweet. Like candy canes, and Christmas puddings, and cakes, and every other nothingness said to innocent victims on snowy nights.
But with revenge came a promise that the next morning will forgive, and maybe, just maybe, forget too.
And on snowy nights like these, it left an u n s p o k e n p r o m i s e behind.
