In The Snow

Will the shadows that haunt my waking dreams remain in my eyes with no one to show them to?

People don't like the dark. I will have introduced them to a world that will have them running — running back to the safety of the light.

You won't see my shadows. You close your eyes when they're near, and you shut the door in my face the moment they leave my lips. I’m left pressing against the door to watch the small cracks of light beneath the frame with longing. I am alone out here. In the void.

In the cold.

It's snowing and I can see its pale blue glow. The night has become frigid and there is a darkened moon to light the abyss. The whispers of winter seep into my nose and mouth and travel along my veins, leaving me freezing and heartless. I feel nothing but the cold.

The memories and shadows deprive me of sleep. They bring visions as I toss and turn, and I awake in pain with a racing heart.

They're here with me. In the snow. I hear their whispers, and the faint sound of a clock ticking reveals a thinning veil.

The shadows pass the clock to and fro, and my fingers twitch as they search for the key. The key to rewind time. To take it back. To return to better days instead of ticking so quickly toward the end.

I scramble to the white wooden door. The wood splinters and tears my skin, and the paint is stained crimson. I look through the keyhole to see the light. To see those who are not shadows. I scream. They glance at the door and run farther away as I bleed onto the snow.

©2020 Shane Blackheart