A fierce day.
The sun rose and provided light, but no warmth. Backward prince. He thinks he can rule the sky and not give any warmth to this place. It might be solitary, but I live here. I deserve as much warmth as all of the other creatures. He walks the sky and looks down on me in spite, without any care. He should be so lucky. Someday, when the wind doesn't howl and it is still I will fly to him. I will yell curses upon him for forgetting me. But I cannot now. The clouds role in on the back of the wind and the snow falls endlessly.
The wind keeps me tied to the icy rocks. She, who so many decades ago lifted me to many distant places and sung to me while I slept, has imprisoned me here. She knows that I cannot fly against her gales. She shrieks like a banshee at me. She knows I am angry. She also knows there is nothing I can do. That ecstatic lady is invisible and taunts me every night with her hollow voice. I cannot stand her anymore. The cold she brings chills me to the bone. That miserable wench has allied herself with the sun against me. She has turned her back on me. I thought she was my friend.
No matter how much I claw at the ice, I cannot make a hole for myself. I am caught every night in the dark which is close enough to death. Every morning is a cold irony I wish with all my might I didn't have to face. The weather is so harsh against my skin I fear to move. My belly, once so used to abundant food, is a painful nuisance to me. I cannot hunt. I cannot leave. And despite my efforts, I cannot die.
So I sit on the rocks and mutter against the wind and curse the sun. May the cold claim me soon.
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To The World, I Say This...
RandomTo The World, I Give This: A range of my smaller works, including scripts, essays, opinions, and short stories. To The World, I Render This: A beautiful and (hopefully) graceful example of spontaneity and genius. I also render (to anyone who has th...
