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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Flash Fiction 2

I pulled the coat tighter around my collar, trying to stave off the bitter chill that filled the air. It had started to smell of winter a few days earlier and the first real frost of the year had settled in. I looked around me at the group of people, all dressed in heavy woolen sweaters and gloves and wondered what to do next.

It didn't seem possible that only a few days had passed since the accident, since the day I first smelled winter. Yet the days had turned to a blur and things that used to seem important seemed less so. My days passed in a haze, making important decisions that only I was qualified to make, yet not recalling any of the answers I gave. The only constant that I could remember was the guilt. The guilt and the smell of winter.

Thousands of unsaid questions lay on my lips, thousands of curses and blaming accusations rested on my mind. Yet the only answer I received were the ones from the mirror, from myself. Blame and hatred, and the guilt.....and the smell of winter.

I dropped the sole white rose onto her open grave as I walked away. Leaving behind all those things unsaid as the first snow fell upon my shoulders.

End of Line.

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