Winter Months

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  • Published: 15 Dec 2013
  • Updated: 15 Dec 2013
  • Status: Complete
What if the twelve months of the year were twelve different persons? What if, just like us ordinary mortals, they too have stories to tell? Stories of love and longing. Here is my take on a possible love 'dodecagon' between our beloved winter months. *Winner of the Second Advent Competition*

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1. December

Winter dawn breaks in the east, parting the clouds of darkness slowly to reveal a timid sun. Its rays are feeble but they light up the abandoned streets of a small town, tucked away in a part of the world no one knows of. The sun climbs higher and higher in the sky, barely visible through the ubiquitous fog, and thus begins the last day of December.

Sunrays filter through the misty canopy and fall on a lone figure on the streets. She stands beneath an ancient oak, its barren snow-covered boughs looking down at her protectively. On her papery pale face, the snowflakes are like soft kisses from heaven that dissolve into her skin as soon as they touch it. Her grey eyes focus on the sky above, tracking the movement of the sun, lips forming a slight smile as she remembers what day it is.

Today is the end of her wait.

Today is the day he comes.

Her heart flutters when she thinks about him. It has been a year since they last met. And although she knows it will be a year before they meet again, she cherishes the opportunity. For the first time in all these cold days of waiting, she feels strange warmth inside.

Today is the day he comes.

The cold is harsh but it doesn’t affect her. Winter loves her. It won’t harm her. But she wears a coat and a scarf, pulls her sleeves down over her fists and pretends that it does. She has to. Even though she can’t see them, she knows there are several sets of eyes staring at her from all directions. She can feel their funny gazes. They don’t understand what she is. Their uncomprehending eyes see only a solitary young girl standing beneath the ancient oak every day of the month. She is there when they look out of their windows in the morning and she is there when they pull the blinds at night. She doesn’t leave.

But today she can.

Today is the day he comes.

Again, she feels the flutter inside as the memory of their last meeting blossoms before her eyes. It is as fresh as if it happened only yesterday. She can see his beautiful face, hear his lovely voice and feel his soft touch. Those curious silvery eyes always made her feel like she was staring into a whirlwind of mystery and depth. She can’t wait to feel that way again. His memory is the only thing that has given her the strength to wait.

But today it ends.

Today is the day he comes.

And now, as the day begins to die, she feels the first sign of his arrival. From several streets away, over on the other side of town, he is walking towards her. He’s coming. She can sense it, although he is still too far for her eyes to see. A shiver runs down her spine as the cold finally gets to her, but in the best way possible. Her heart is consumed in warmth and love, longing for the distance between them to close already. Not much longer now.

Today is the end of her wait.

Today is the day he comes.    

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