A shivering specter shifted aimlessly through a frozen wood. It rubbed at its frost-covered arms with fingers it could no longer feel.
It fell, tripped by its own clumsy feet, long since blackened by frostbite.
As it lay on the frozen ground, it pushed at the powdery layer of snow around it, trying uselessly to rise to its feet once more. When it failed, it just lay there, panting with breaths too frigid to fog the air. Instead of trying to struggle anymore, it simply lay there, staring at the tiny blue petals of a flower that had been uncovered in its tumble.
The phantom reached for the flower weakly, attempting to grab it gently with fingers that couldn’t move.
Before it could even make contact, the small blossom was dragged away by the biting gale that howled through the trees and whistled in the frozen branches. Dragging through the snow slowly, but far too quickly for the specter to pursue.
The hand flopped to the floor in defeat. Much of the forest was the same. Literally frozen in time, as though the cold had ambushed the forest. In its trail, it left perfect ice sculptures of all its victims.
It rolled onto its back and stared up at the canopy above. Despite the powerful wind, not a single leaf dared to twitch, frozen as they were to the branches.
It could not remember how it had come to be here, in the dead forest. It had long since forgotten its own name.
It closed its eyes. The gnawing feeling of icy nothingness was overwhelming.
All that remained was the sound of the wind. Whispering into tortured ears with the promise of blissful oblivion. The same offer it had carried for as long as the specter could remember. With each passing moment, the offer grew more enticing.
The specter’s breaths grew shallower and less frequent.
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Why had it ever fought against something as beautiful as rest?
Could there be any reason at all?
If there was, it had long since been forgotten.
The specter made its decision.
An exhale.
Release.
:(:):(:):(:):
Freedom.
A spirit was breathed into being in the icy air, slipping past the cracked lips of a corpse.
It stretched like a cat awakening from a long nap.
When it cast its awareness around itself, it found itself surrounded by unfamiliar trees and ice. Unsure of what to do.
It turned its attention downward onto a face smiling softly back at it, eyes closed as if in slumber. Something about this figure felt strangely familiar, like an old friend made near unrecognizable by the passage of many years apart.
It decided to stay. To wait for the face to open its eyes. Perhaps they would know what to do next.
And so it stayed and waited. And the face continued to remain still before the howling snowstorms that eventually covered them completely. Never rose as the fierce winds finally shattered and tore down the frozen trees to lie in broken piles in the snow. And waited even still, long after those too had been buried beneath the flat tundra that stretched forever in every direction.
The spirit lay still in the powdery snow, though it had been a long time since it had last fallen. Freezing temperatures had left the air too cold to allow evaporation and the forming of clouds. Wind too, had slowly given way to complete stillness. For a while now, the sun had shone brightly overhead, the moon sweeping past through the blinking stars to mark the passing of each day, and still, the spirit stayed.
In the absence of anything else, it marveled at a galaxy splashed across the sky like a painted backdrop of purple and blue slashed artfully onto a black canvas. A spattering of white dots dusted the night, blinking back down at it like many thousands of gentle eyes.
It was a pity that the familiar face could not see it all, covered as it was. Many years had flown by; many years it had forgotten to count since it had last seen even their outline in the snow. It quite missed the comfort of their presence, but it had promised itself that it would be patient.
Forever watching the stars, it waited.