The snow as it fell down on icy cold ground, felt burning. The chill that raced through his spine- also burning. His cold breath was fire coming out in white spirits. Even though his hands were shaking so, they held his guitar in such a great grip that would easily shatter it into pieces,then dig out a wintry grave.
His eyes went to scatter, slowly studying the falling flakes from the sky that knit a really beautiful blanket of white. A blanket of life. Putting everything around him to deep sleep. A coma to soon melt and by springtime bless with a brighter color of life. A single tear rolled down his dry skin as the thought of such tranquillity and luck crossed his head. Why couldn’t he have a new start like them? Why couldn’t he have a new life? Could he trade it to be like the dying flowers, currently getting under the wing of winter? Sitting down on the little cloud of snow, he sighed and ran a hand through it, then put his guitar beside himself, so it’d escort him through this adventure of thrill and mystery. He lied down completely, his gaze up at the numb sky of silver. His body was loosing temperature, but spiritually- no. In fact, stars showering him.
He smiled.
He smiled as the wing started sheltering him with unknown protection.
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.
Tears started streaming down his sides, but the smile stayed. This moment was filled with every happy emotion a man could ever feel…
He… He will be reborn again. Just like the dying flowers on that sping’s day.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Your Dawn
FantasyOne rock could lift up a mountain. One way could change a whole plan. One decision could change a whole fortune. One look could tie your mind and rum you for the rest of your life.
