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Goodbye, Red Winter

Short Story

Spoken from the view of a mentally unstable person, saying goodbye to a beloved winter.

#blood #mentaldisorder #murder #shortstory #snow #spring #winter

Goodbye, Red Winter

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by RaelynSilver

by RaelynSilver

Yesterday, I watched the last snowflake melt in the palm of my hand. It reminded me of how miserable I'll be the next few excruciatingly long months. I already miss the fresh, white snow, the dreadful cold, the sidewalks carpeted in white, and the blinding colors of nature surrendering to the inevitable monochrome season. It's so beautiful.

So beautiful...

...with a splash of crimson RED.

Splashing,

splattering,

sloshing,

squelching,

sprinkling,

spilling....

Spots in various sizes. Some too near, some too far. It was always a struggle cleaning every speck, but I secretly enjoyed that part the most.

I shake the memories from my fractured mind as I walk along the dry, concrete sidewalk. I can hear everyone's footsteps now. It's deafening. The clunking of skinny and fat heels and soles dragging across the paved surface are sensitive to my ears. I hate it.

I HATE IT.

Who can I toy with next winter? I look around and feel the annoying itch.

It itches.

It itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!

STOP.

I insert my ocean blue earbuds into my ear canals and blast Beethoven's "Silence" until it feels like my ear drums would burst. The music calms me. It's my favorite song. I've listened to it at least 46 times a day since I was 8-years-old.

8-years-old was when I felt the urge to...........................................oh!

An empty bench. I take a seat and look up at the budding trees. The park is lovely today. The air is still a bit crisp but a light jacket is enough to keep warm bodies warm.

Warm bodies.

Warm blood.

Blood.

I'm reminded of the end of winter as I look down at the ground and see patches of green sprouting from the filthy earth. My body shivers as a light breeze blows by and I'm rocketed into my memories of this past winter. I close my eyes and recollect the last event that happened 21 days and 17 hours ago...

A shovel. Footprints in the snow. Silence all around us. Stars shimmering in the night sky. The moon smiles as it watches from up high. Somebody wrapped entirely in a cream-white sheet. I always try to find white sheets to match the color of snow. The color is always slightly off and it burdens me.

It's heavy. I grunt as I push and pull, push and pull. The once undisturbed snow has been plowed by this lifeless body, but that's alright. I enjoy disrupting freshly fallen snow. The crunching of packed ice beneath my feet sounds almost as lovely as my favorite song.

Even the sound of the body falling into the pit I dug is eerily quiet. So quiet, as I stare down at my work. I can't see my masterpiece, but I know what is underneath the red-stained sheet. It bled more than the others but that was because I was experimenting with new tools this time. Perfection was something I strived for. I just needed to practice.

But the next snowstorm never came.

The sun...

The damned sun melted everything away...

I'm pulled back into the present. I'm still sitting on the bench. My song is playing for the twelfth time today.

I look up at the trees and lock my eyes on the birth of a new leaf sprouting from a cracked bud. The corners of my lips pull down with gravity.

I'm reminded of spring but I know the excitement of winter keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.....