White Death

I woke up to a white world

I pulled on worn gloves and woollen scarf,

Boots and coat and hat,

I shivered, clutching my jacket even tighter,

Yanked my hat down over my ears,

Unruly hair sticking out the sides.

I took a few steps and looked back,

I looked back on my footsteps,

Knowing this was the only mark I’d leave on the world,

The prints were deep and dirty,

Defiling an idealistic world.

I turned back to the distant horizon, which seemed so pure,

Innocent, robed in virgin white, and sighed, and then I walked.

I walked till I could walk no longer.

My stumbling and falling had made me wet and frozen.

The fresh blanket had finally defeated me,

I bit my dead lips as another storm of flakes as hard as shards of diamonds swirled cutting my spirit, I bit them so hard that a drop of scarlet blood fell to the clean duvet of death.

I was lucky to have survived so far but the Gods were angered at my sinful gift of hearts blood.

I pitched forward.

My numb body feeling nothing.

My limbs unable to move.

A tear of defeat crept down my cheek, only to be frozen on its perilous journey.

I tried to laugh at the irony of it but my lips were frozen together.

I sighed again with my last breath, praying that in the afterlife that there would be no snow.