Surviving Winter

Entombed in the embrace of the soot-black night, the frigid snow caught the eternal edge of the waning moonlight. Pristine, yet jagged, its frozen surface shimmered in an iridescent sheen, poised like the steel jaws of a trap waiting for the unwary; its beauty was undeniable but deadly.

For the mortals that lived in its grip, winter ruled the world and waited.

A northern gale rustled down from the high mountains, bouncing against the village; layers of ice cracked, flexing the cold’s wicked bite throughout the empty streets. Not a breathing soul stirred in the night air; the living huddled inside around meagre fires. Those fated few trapped outside had long since perished, left as the offerings.

Sacrifices were necessary.

For Winter took its price. Better the chosen, than the innocent.

And always the question remained: How many days this year? Last season the village barely survived. Only a change in the weather, a surprise thaw, saved them all. That year the weather lingered longer.

What would happen this season? Would more die before spring? Would they all die?

It wasn’t something they could fight.

They could only prepare for what was coming…

Claws skittered against the glacial snow. Heaving pants of breath threaded white vapours on the wind. A soft whine wormed its way through miniscule cracks and people shivered. Louder noises followed; the crunch of ice, bone and frozen flesh. Some villagers silently wept. Here and there, a looming shadow passed the shuttered windows, breaking the warm light of the fires. Sometimes, when the children whimpered, they heard scratching at the doors.
No one could leave, and no one spoke, save in whispers.

Huddling, trembling, afraid.

How many days?

Fearful another sacrifice would be necessary.

Praying the doors could stay shut.

Praying they wouldn’t starve.

Praying they could outlast the beast of winter.

~ A. F. Stewart

© Copyright 2023 A. F. Stewart. All Rights Reserved.