The Fleeting
A snowflake, made of gentle, crystal glass gently sank through the calming winds into the white abyss below. The delicate memory of importance hovering lower by the second. But yet it is just out of grasp, you try to catch it that precious memory. But to no avail, for it has slipped from your fingers and is slowly being buried under layers upon layers of snow. You dig into the flakey, sharp snow and begin to feel it's warm essence creep closer. But just as you're about to grasp it with your trembling hands, it flees into the misty powder below. You dig for it for hours on end, but each scoop you remove the farther down it is being buried. As you are desperately trying to regain the now fractured glass, another memory of greater importance drifts by. You immediately turn your attention to the fleeting drop of hope. You grasp it's warm circumstance only to look down in your hands and see a pile of dirty snow. You cripple, not only have you lost your precious name but your princess is gone buried in the deep white as well. As you lay on the cold ground, a soft blanket of snow wraps around you. It's very touch is enough to make almost any man give up, and lay soundly asleep. But you are not just any man. Though you have laid In this blanket of snow for many years, you are starting to dig out of your icy prison. You are escaping you madding labyrinth and uncovering your memories. Simon Petrikov shall live again.
Ps: I'm new to this site and will except plenty of tips, praise, and criticism. Sorry if my story is junk.
