Iviernu

 He could feel the coming of winter with the tip of his tongue. The first sign of its arrival tasted like metal: sharp, powerful, and bitter. So bitter it made his tear-stained face numb and blood-tinted lips dry. Snow gave different impression, however; it was soft and mellow, like a hand that embraced you while you stood alone trying to make do of what happened. Its sweetness lingered hours after its passing, warming you from the strands of your hair to the tip of your toes. He laughed; a croaking, hollow laugh that echoed into darkness. He hated it. Winter… Winter had the power to remind him of time long past: a time of innocence,

Like a grey hound waiting for its prey, he stood beneath the falling snow. Unfaltering, unmoving. It’s as if the cold passed his body without leaving its freezing touch behind; his eyes pierced through the dark, fixated on an empty space of nothingness. For a second, a sliver of anger passed through it, but it was gone before the howling wind. He could hear it from where he stood: the sound of metals collided; the sound of cries, of desperation, of defeat, of loves lost, and lives gone. He can no longer move forward nor went back. Everything was too late. What has been done cannot be reversed, what was lost cannot be regained, and the

Cecile: There were times when you cannot achieve what you were aiming for. It was a simple statement denied by many, they became deluded with their dreams, not realizing what they were capable of. The day Cecile left home, she understood one thing; she threw away her dreams by following her heart. At time, she thought it was one of those sacrifices people talked about; where you have to lose something to gain another, much greater things. The night she got letter informing her husband’s death, however, she came to realize how foolish she was. Everything can disappear in an instant, leaving no greater thing, but wounds in her heart. The