literature

Deadly Beauty

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ChildofNowhere's avatar
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Literature Text

Snow fell in fat, soft flakes, silently insulating the world.  He stumbled through drifts, his legs numb inside his jeans.  He never noticed the wet that crept slyly up his legs to allow the nearly non-existent wind to stab him.  As he trudged through the world, his mind rested on where he’d been, where he was going, and where he might end up.  He’d barely seen his twentieth year, but already he’d been nearly everywhere, seen nearly everything, done nearly everything.  In fact, for his age, he’d seen and done too much, and none of it had mattered to him.  Now, the only things to mark all the places he’s been and come from were the footprints in the snow behind him.  The snowflakes fell faster now, gleefully gathering in his hair and falling down the collar of his leather jacket.  He lifted his eyes to watch the flakes fall like tiny stars from the night sky.  They coated his lashes, alighting feather-soft on high dusky cheekbones, a full sculpted mouth, a high and strong forehead.  His soulful brown eyes contemplated the moon, or at least the small glimpses he was gifted through the clouds.  Still, he moved onward, a lonely man-child in a silent world.
Hours later, the world was still empty, the snow still fell, and he still moved on.  His footprints filled in faster then ever now; soon enough, no one would know where he’d been, not even him.  He felt the cold now, all the way down to his soul, and he was so tired.  He searched in every direction for a place to rest—a tree, a rock, a clump of bushes, anything, but in searching found nothing.  
“As soon as I find somewhere to lie down, I’ll rest,” he thought, stumbling and slipping in the silent snow.  It began to look inviting, to beckon him with soft, smooth arms.  Warmth was a distant memory, like the sun, or grass, or even other people.  He began to hear each flake hit the earth.  The ones that found purchase in his hair no longer melted, and soon he wore a cap of purest softest white.  His beautiful mouth turned blue, yet somehow the color still suited him and he retained his beauty.  Slipping once again, he fell to his knees, and all the aches of his body and his heart made themselves known to him in that one instant.  
“I’ll just lie down for a minute,” he thought.  “Only a minute…”  He curled up into himself, a surprisingly small human ball for such a tall man.  He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself warm.  When it didn’t work, he looked to the world for the answers he’d never gotten.  He noticed again how beautiful the snow was, how softly it fell.  It began to cover him, and he smiled, thinking how very like a blanket it looked.  He watched the snow fall, and smiled under his white-feather blanket.  Minutes passed.  He fell asleep, and the snow covered him, and the breath ceased to billow from his beautiful mouth.  Still, the silent snow fell, and covered him, until he was no more than another drift among countless others.  Come spring, no one will look for him.  No one will know to, and no one cares.  And still, forever, the snow falls.
I was driving at night in soft, wet snow that scared the hell out of me. I couldn't see the lines on the road, other people were driving like maniacs, and I got laughed at by my dad for being scared. I got out of the car and my hands were shaking and my knees buckled. Yay terror.
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nothingnowhere44332's avatar
I love morbid things. I mean, it's a lot more than that and that's probably what makes it so awesome.

Of course, you already knew that. Lol.