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The Ice Rose
As I step, I hear the wind blowing. It goes through my hair like it is leaves. The sound is whirling back and forth. I feel the cold December winds come into my warm lungs as I take a breath, holding it in for a moment and letting go, and I feel refreshed. I see the sky cloudy with little flakes of snow coming down from the heavens. My heart is in peace. I can see the quiet place surrounding me. I feel like I am home.
My footsteps. They are short prints, but are in long sweeps, across the land in which I am standing on. It seems like my legs are a hundred pounds. I push myself to breathe and to go on. One foot by one foot, one step after one step. Moments now feel like hours on end. When was I going to get there? My face is now becoming like ice. My blue eyes were turning a light gray. That is how cold I am. My lips are becoming to chap because I am licking them to keep them warm. My nose is now starting to run. My ears are becoming so cold I can’t hear the wind any more, and it is starting to fade in the distance. My body is becoming frugal. I can’t feel my legs or my arms. My hands are becoming cold. It is turning a deep purple close to a black state of color.
I am slowly creeping upon the gate of the old place, where I put the red rose in a jar and sealed it shut, so you could keep it. The gate is a faded white. The ground was covered in white, and relaxed on the ground was stones of different sizes and shapes. I open the gate, walk in, and I lay down in the ground next to you. I open the jar and the jar shatters. The pieces are going through the air in slow motion. My heart sank. That was the only thing you wanted from me!
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