This is just a preview for my second story, Cursed.
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Every part of him radiates with the captivating essence of summer. Just looking at him, with his golden hair and wide green eyes reminds me of days spent lazing on the beach, toes curled in the sand, sunglasses the size of flying saucers, and a gallon of sunscreen plastered to my skin. He even smelled like the salt tainted humid air of summer.
But not me. I am the very definition of winter. My unbearably pale skin is white as snow, my hair the color of nightfall, my eyes like grey storm clouds framed by thick lashes.
I am the winter chill, that freezes you in place, sending snowflakes that cascade to the harsh cold pavement. He is the summer breeze that sweeps your hair back and sends kites flying.
I am night, and he is day. If I am ice, he must be fire. I might glow dimly like the moon and the stars, but he beams so bright, that he can outshine the sun. He doesn't know I exist. And that's the way I want it to be.
