The stars were out, he was sure of that. They hung in the sky as they always had; Orion, Polaris, The Big Dipper, The Little Dipper. But something was different.
They had colors of blue and orange and red but they did not sparkle. He squinted with his eyes amidst the frosty, blackened sky and tilted his neck, the fur on his parka making a eerie brushing sound as it swept past his burly shoulders. As he strained his eyes upwards he saw the moon, nestled among a few faint clouds. The moon was indeed there too and it was a blueish gray color. He tried to see a face and smiled with amusement to see what looked like an old mans face looking down with displeasure. But something was just not quite right. He removed his big, yellow gloves and with his long thick fingers he started to stroke at his reddish beard inquisitively.
"Damn ginger!" thought a Raven to itself as it flew overhead observing the large man, hand on his beard ruffling, his neck pointed skyward in disbelief.
The moon, the stars, the night sky, it was all there. It was there as it had always been, each piece occupying its place amidst the great expanse. But something was just not right. The stars didn't sparkle, the moon, while lit, did not glow, and the sky just seemed lifeless and still.
He took a few steps further in the snow, crunching beneath his big black boots. There were billows of steam from his body and smoke rings from his breath as its warmth fought the crispness of this cold, cold night and lost. He turned quickly as if to surprise the night sky, for maybe it was playing tricks, but when he turned around it was the same as before, cold and sterile.
He walked back to his little cabin beside the snow covered hill that jutted into the darkness. His breath was laborious and loud as he stepped in the deep snow. He saw his tiny cabin, his escape from the world. Tonight it looked so bland and ordinary. He opened the door as a small breeze howled through as if to welcome itself and take residence. He shut the door and hung up his gray parka on coat rack by the door and sat down to take off his boots. To his right there was a fire roaring in the fireplace. He was comforted by the crackling sound it made but no warmth reached him. Tonight the fire looked wrong. It was hot and it was burning, but it wasn't a fire. It wasn't alive, the sparks didn't dance around. Like the sky it just seemed lifeless and cold.
"A cold fire..." he thought to himself. "I must be going half mad..." And indeed he was.
Something strange happens to a man when he falls in love and this man had fallen farther and faster than any man. He had known in the blink of an eye that his life would never be the same the day she walked in the door and out from the cold. The way the frost accented her smooth skin and the way her blonde locks curled down her face from under a knitted winter cap that had seen better days. Her blue eyes sparkled like rubies and her lips were like roses. She had turned to face him and he caught his eyes gazing downward at this beautiful creature. Her shirt tugged tightly at her curves, which were neither too big nor too small. Her jeans hung low on her hips and her legs rose high and gave her a commanding presence.
He fidgeted with his thumbs nervously as she walked closer to the tiny wooden desk he sat behind. There was a light shining down and all manner of parts and screws and batteries. She handed him a watch and asked him if it was fixable. He mumbled and sweat poured from his brow. "How do you talk to an angel?" he thought. He tried to breathe but he couldn't. She leaned over to ask if he was alright and as she did her shirt rustled in the breeze revealing creamy skin and a supple bosom. He stammered and took the watch. He was still fighting for air and now his reserve was getting low. He started to panic. "Oh God he thought..." He tried to scream. The beautiful woman looked down in a fright. The man was slumping over, tearing at his clothes, his face now matching the red of his beard.
Thud! He hit the floor. Foam started seeping from his tremoring blue lips. He shook and he writhed as the oxygen left his body once and for all. He felt sharp stabbing pains in his chest. He felt his eyes roll back. He could see the darkness coming and was powerless to stop it. And for a while all was silent and he slept.
He awoke in his cabin and was not sure what was real and what was not. It was then that he had decided to go for a walk. He liked to walk to clear his mind and watch the stars. But this was the night that the stars did not intreat him like they had in the past. This was the night the fire did not warm him. He had this aching feeling and a constant cold that he could not shake. And then he realized he was dead. He had died that day the beautiful woman came into his tiny watch factory. He had thought to himself, "I life my life for her from now on..." But she was not his and so his life had ended. What a fool he was to wear his heart on his sleeve. Your heart needs to be inside your body and belong to you because once it leaves your body you are good as dead... :)
Copyright 2018 Roxx Hunter.