Magenta Monster

It had started snowing heavily, being on his own these days Jed had crawled into bed after banking the fire and praying it would not go out attempted to make himself comfortable. There was only him for miles, a little farm house in the wilderness, all that was left of the acres his father had owned. He had no children to pass it on too and no will in any case, he didn’t really care what happened too it. His bones ached.

He slept in a wooly hat knitted by Isabella, long gone now, death had stollen her in what seemed a distant time now. The house creaked around him as the snow settled on the roof and beams took the extra weight sometimes he hoped they would collapse on him. He sighed at the thought and then at another – he would suffer tomorrow for not stocking up on wood inside, his shins burned with the cold, with age and with fatigue.

The warmth of himself and the water bottle slowly soaked into him and he drifted into sleep, nose red with the cold but his toes and body snuggly warm. He looked grey and shriveled in the luminous half light of snow glow.

He dreamed of her and the house seemed full of her presence once more. Laughing and singing and the smell of curing bacon, lavender drying by the bunch from the beams. They should have been so happy together, should have had a life time. They got a few short years and nearly all that she had made and brought to the house had weathered away with age – as he had.

He awoke expecting her by his side, his heart broke that she was not and angrily he shoved the blankets off of him. His breath condensed in the cold air and a daisy garden of ice crystals adorned the window, on the inside. He put his cloths on over the thermals and the faded pajamas he always wore and wondered creakily down the stairs.

Prodding the fire he sighed in resignation, it had gone out, it was warm but there was not enough heat in it to rekindle, he would have to clear the fire place and start again. His fingers were already numb and the kindling was in the shed. He put on his green grey fingerless gloves, they would have unraveled along time ago except the grease of years had turned them almost solid. Big boots that had been repaired too many times went on his feet. He put his jacket on and clutched at the pain in his chest, he had tablets for that somewhere didn’t he?

The smell of lavender filled the air, the house hummed with the after resonance of her singing once more, he shook his head, his teeth hurt. Opening the door he stood still for a moment in shock. small foot prints stretched away from the house, not small like a child but small like she had been, dainty that was the word wasn’t it?

The edge of laughter tugged at him from woods.

‘Isabella!’ he called softly and followed her out into the wilderness.

Posted: Thursday, January 17th, 2013 @ 8:59 am
Categories: Uncategorized.
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