xusianna

United States

Message to Readers

Is the organization clear? What can I do to strengthen the structure? What are some details more elaborations would be beneficial? What was your impression and opinion of this writing piece? What can I do in general to improve it?

A Reminder

December 3, 2018

A million tiny stings stabbed at my flushed face simultaneously as I left the warm glow of the house. I watch my breath swirl with the frigid air before dissipating. Wiggling my fingers and toes, I crinkle my nose at the sight that lay before me. A beautiful serene scene of gleaming icicles that dangled from the rooftops reflecting the full moon’s soft glow, of ice that melted and smoothed over the rough grooves of tree trunks, of soft sprinkles of powder over the still outreaching arms of trees, of that fresh pure white that lay before me.
But I hate it. I see only how the trees have shriveled up and died, the birds ceased their singing, the sun no longer shined benevolently down upon us. The air turned frigid and hostile until it hurts to breathe, snatching away at any warmth as it swirls inside of us. I stepped out onto the thick snow sheet, hearing that satisfying crunch. The first mar on the pristine blanket.
On nights like this, I always exhume those dark memories buried away in the basement of my mind. With each step, I sink deeper into the past. Return back to the screams, the doors smashing against their frames, the distinct noise of meat being pounded, the echoing sounds of violence within the skeletons of the old house. Then the suffocating  silence that would ensue.  After unerasable years of fear and danger always with December, how could I not grow to hate this month. And imagine, it was in this month that I came into a cold brutal world, yowling my arrival.
That house has been sold, a new house has been bought, a new start has begun yet I could not escape the shadows of the past that clung to me. They could not be so easily removed. Every day was torture, every night the memories haunted me. Everyday I lived like an invisible man, like a ghost, here yet never there. And when the cold retreated back to its desolate corner and the sunshine came back, my hauntings retreated back into their coffins in the basement to slumber until the next year. And during those blessed months, I healed slowly. With each laugh, each smile, each piece of love I received and with each piece of love I gave out, those ghosts of the past faded. With each moment I spent bathe in the light, the darkness receded.
Looking back, those beginning days were like hell. Yet I still walked through them and I’m still walking today. Every breath I took was a reminder of the past and every breath I take is a reminder that despite it all, I am still here. With the death of this month comes a thick silence in the air as the world slumbers beneath our feet. And yet still here I stand.
A million tiny stings stabbed at my flushed face simultaneously as I left the warm glow of the house. I watch my breath swirl with the frigid air before dissipating. Wiggling my fingers and toes, I crinkle my nose at the sight that lay before me. A beautiful serene scene of gleaming icicles that dangled from the rooftops reflecting the full moon’s soft glow, of ice that melted and smoothed over the rough grooves of tree trunks, of soft sprinkles of powder over the still outreaching arms of trees, of that fresh pure white that lay before me.
But I hate it. I see only how the trees have shriveled up and died, the birds ceased their singing, the sun no longer shined benevolently down upon us. The air turned frigid and hostile until it hurts to breathe, snatching away at any warmth as it swirls inside of us. I stepped out onto the thick snow sheet, hearing that satisfying crunch. The first mar on the pristine blanket.
On nights like this, I always exhume those dark memories buried away in the basement of my mind. With each step, I sink deeper into the past. Return back to the screams, the doors smashing against their frames, the distinct noise of meat being pounded, the echoing sounds of violence within the skeletons of the old house. Then the suffocating  silence that would ensue.  After unerasable years of fear and danger always with December, how could I not grow to hate this month. And imagine, it was in this month that I came into a cold brutal world, yowling my arrival.
That house has been sold, a new house has been bought, a new start has begun yet I could not escape the shadows of the past that clung to me. They could not be so easily removed. Every day was torture, every night the memories haunted me. Everyday I lived like an invisible man, like a ghost, here yet never there. And when the cold retreated back to its desolate corner and the sunshine came back, my hauntings retreated back into their coffins in the basement to slumber until the next year. And during those blessed months, I healed slowly. With each laugh, each smile, each piece of love I received and with each piece of love I gave out, those ghosts of the past faded. With each moment I spent bathe in the light, the darkness receded.
Looking back, those beginning days were like hell. Yet I still walked through them and I’m still walking today. Every breath I took was a reminder of the past and every breath I take is a reminder that despite it all, I am still here. With the death of this month comes a thick silence in the air as the world slumbers beneath our feet. And yet still here I stand.

Print

See History
  • December 3, 2018 - 8:20pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

1 Comment