Snowblood

It snows

Frozen crystallised icy rain precipitates down from the sky. Each flake is unique, with its intricate pattern both mysterious and beautiful. Each snowflake delicate and pure. But in great masses, powered by the wind, cutting, fierce and sometimes deadly.

The depths of my mind sometimes feel like a howling snowstorm, millions of ice daggers cutting into my core. Other times it’s like the gentle beginning to a magical winter, softly descending down to earth from the heavens.

It bleeds

A wild animal, wounded. Empties its life force onto the bed of soft white snow, trailing a crimson river, grasping at the last threads of consciousness.