Inspiration Song- David Jones Locker
A woman walks unsteadily through the snow, her breath like clouds forms puffs that dissipate a small ways behind her. Had she anyone to speak to she would comment on the coldness, how it clung to her skin like needles and stung her eyes and lungs but she has not, not ever.
Lament over such things as loneliness however were things she'd long since learnt the uselessness of and so she trudges on, not sure where her feet might take her and not caring for it wouldn't differ from any other place so far.
A flare of hatred for the cold harshness of the snow, so very much like the coldness of mankind in instances she knew far more of than she wished, tint her eyes so they resemble the black found in ink, ink that reflects like a mirror the petals of ice falling past them.
She blinks and quenches the feeling, not unlike smashing an unwanted bug like she has so many times before, reminding herself to never allow it.
Fear and sadness, hatred and resentment . . . loneliness, all of it shall never be allowed into her heart, she shall shield it forever, until death, from such feelings.
As a village comes into view she does however, despite years of training not to, feel that familiar pang of remembrance of things long past, memories best kept forgotten, locked up and erased.
Pillars of smoke rise from the huts, telling of the warmth shared inside yet at the image of welcoming faces, smiling over dinner she falls short. Afraid to walk in she drags her feet deeper into the village, so far that she doesn't stop until a flight of stairs are reached and in front of those stairs the smallest hut in the village.
Should she truly risk walking inside and ask for sustenance when she might get turned down? It would be too harsh a blow on her frail heart so there she remains standing, only a few moments away from being literally frozen to the ground.
Just then a man steps out from the hut, her breath hitches, has he come to turn her away? He stands proudly wearing robes of red and framed in strands of white is a face adorned with confusion. "Well" he says with a tone harsh but not unkind "are you gonna come in or not?" She thinks about it, there are so many risks in this and yet, she wouldn't rather freeze to death. The colour of his eyes don't bother her as she nods.