Wilt In The Garden

Wilt In The Garden

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jun 14, 2021
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Fiction
Mystery
"Winter has come. Each snowflake a life of its own as bleach-white snow laid evenly. Howling snowstorm winds kissing every skinless tree in the living garden. An eerie silence travelled through the courtyard and into the bleak sky. Shivering bodies collected in the fore-room as lucent light from the hearth covered the room. Yet another day spent in solace since they last swayed in the garden." Excerpt From Wilt In The Garden S. Mngomezulu
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All he ever wanted. All he ever fought for. Becomes the scythe to his bleeding core... The curse hiding under the tenderness of a touch. The softness of a voice... of a loving gaze. Yet an easing warmth to his freezing heart. It is ruining him. He knows it. It burns his insides, he feels it slowly killing him. Oh... Ever so sweetly. Intoxicating. She is. Like a moth to a flame. He knew it's danger, yet he still dove deeper into what's to be his grave. Or hers? Who can tell when all that is visible is the forgotten hot blood splatter on innocent snow? Maybe that blood didn't know how incriminating he looked, And maybe snow isn't so innocent after all. We'd wonder and question the whys and hows, but the only truth they both shared? Terrified. In their skin. Because they yearned for it still. Afraid to answer a mind. Scared to face a logic. So helplessly one would ask, How can a heart still long for its destroyer? How can cold snow yearn for the burning heat of crimson?

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