Zadown Posted February 2, 2003 Report Posted February 2, 2003 His fingertipes brushed lightly on the glass as he pushed the curtain away to see the thermometer outside. The touch was enough - the glass radiated cold, making it pointless to see the actual depressing number. The man sighed at the darkness outside. Yet another day when he had slept past sunset; not that that was too hard, here. Outside the wind had spread the loose snow to new formations, coated the cars and trees with white. Any journey anywhere would involve ten minutes of preparing for the intense cold outside and then ten more minutes to dig the car out of the snow, warmth quickly fleeing first from fingers and face, then everywhere. It was sort of a siege. ... a faint twinkling sound, a fleeting fragrance of flowers and dry hay, a touch of warmth ... He blinked. Oh yes, summer would be nice, he thought, and shrugged slightly to himself. He rubbed his hands together to get rid of some old memory of coldness and walked to the small kitchen with the two or three steps it took. On the door of the fridge was a magnet declaring "Alaska - the way life should be". He smiled slightly at that. So life should be half darkness and cold, half light and slightly less cold? The man opened the fridge, took a sip of juice and noted that there would need to be a food run to the nearest store in nearby future, once again. The store wasn't that far, and it wasn't that cold weather by local standards, but still... He almost touched the kitchen window, felt again the malignant winter trying to push through the thin glass and looked at the orange streetlight illuminating white snow, white trees, white car-shaped mounds, buildings coated with frost. Darkness and cold outside. It felt like a pressure, a suffocating blanket over the city. Behind him electric light shone, filled the kitchen with bright harsh light - under the window a radiator did it's best to keep the room warm. He wondered briefly how the winters had been for his ancestors. ... rich golden light, blinding if you look straight at it but oh so friendly when you don't, crystal blue skies with a few white clouds framed by living deep dark green color of firs and pines and slightly lighter green of birches and alder .. buzzing sound, the meadow filled with warmth, green green grass, here and there a flower, mostly yellows, whites, purples and blues, small insects flying between them ... He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. All these hours alone here wasn't good for the mind. Cabin fever. It was still 4 months to summer, at least. One or two of full winter, then spring with mud and all the trash that the receding snow would reveal, water running liquid here and there, light getting stronger day by day, these half-days turning into full ones, then extending themselves past 9pm, past 10pm, past 11pm. Real warmth outside, that was still very far. He sighed, even more deeply this time. The man walked to the bed and took his book from the nightstand. It was the topmost of a big pile of fantasy and sci-fi books, all journeys far-away from this cell with bars of freezing ice, all taking him away from the haunting ghosts of the past that shared the room with him. He stood there, book in his hand, feet temporarily insulated from the chilling floor by a furry carpet. To open the book and lie down to read it would be a short reprieve, but restlessness tugged at him, made him stop and frown. ... the distant cries of seagulls, warmth engulfing your chilled body, sound of water lapping quietly against rock, wind bringing the smell of resin and cut grass, a tinkling laugh nearby and an odd sensation, as if something was left behind, a weight cast away from you... They found his cold still body days later when his parents started to miss the car. It was curled up on the bed in foetal position with a faint smile on his young face.
Peredhil Posted February 2, 2003 Report Posted February 2, 2003 You are so good your positively scary... Why do I get the feeling, if we were to spend time together in Real Life, there would be two smiling bodies as we built and reenforced each other's fantasies?
Impostor Posted February 2, 2003 Report Posted February 2, 2003 This is good. I mean, I like it. Especially I enjoy how depressing the image of cars that have lost all but the barest semblance of roof-shape as being very depressing. And the looking out the window - I think back to a specific window when you write it, the imagery is so clear. I mean it's better at explaining cold than that finnish movie I was dragged out to see that I didn't think was that good, and that was hailed as like the greatest Finnish thing ever around here, so you know... I mean it's good, but it's not "Stained Room" good. Impostor J'aime pas la soupe
Zadown Posted February 2, 2003 Author Report Posted February 2, 2003 I tried to write a happy story. I had this vivid image of an eerie summer vision... but blah. Can't write happy stories in cold winter. I'm wearing black clothes too - Doomed Gothic Writer style. Now where did I put my glass of red wine...
Peredhil Posted February 2, 2003 Report Posted February 2, 2003 Snickers. I get these nifty ideas for a story, then they end up writing themselves the direction they want to go. Half of my stuff is unprintable.
Vlad Posted February 2, 2003 Report Posted February 2, 2003 Wow, so descriptive. You conveyed so much in those few words. Peredhil's right. It is scary.
Tasslehoff Posted February 3, 2003 Report Posted February 3, 2003 Very Well Done. I was quite Suprised to find such a ending.
Yui-chan Posted February 3, 2003 Report Posted February 3, 2003 As always, Zadown, a wonderful piece. Your descriptions are constantly breathtaking, both visually and emotionally. I just wish he hadn't died! :'( ~Yui
Rune Posted February 3, 2003 Report Posted February 3, 2003 That was written so well, so much intensity.. even the words themselves appeared to be trapped in the prison the man was experiencing. Amazing job Zadown... One of few stories where the sad ending actually made me sigh to myself even though I knew I was just reading a story.
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