Unorthodox Original Amateur Long Winded Short Winter Story

Winter Writes

White smoke curled upwards as he shivered. It was that time of the year again, when everything was covered in snow. So cold! He cursed and spat at the floor, the spit solidifying into snow before hitting the ground. He smirked, perhaps some idiot kid would later make that into a snowman and unwittingly give him a kiss.

He set off for home, cigarette burning. It was already halfway burnt through. The faint smoke curled up towards the sky, mixing in with the other white stuff on the trees. Different shade though. The snow crunched underneath his boots as he continued, the only sound in an ocean of white.

He shivered. Did the temperature drop? It felt colder somehow. The struggling blaze on his cigarette finally succumbed to the cold. He swore. Son of a b*tch! His frozen hands scrambled through his pockets, before finally finding what he was looking for. The lighter. Click. A shivering flame arose from the lighter and he raised it towards his mouth, hand shivering so much it was a wonder the blaze didn't disappear. Miss. He missed the cigarette again. This stupid lighter, he thought to himself as he tried again. Third time lucky, right?

The fire disappeared just as it reached the cigarette. He swore once more. More like third time unlucky. Click. Click. Oh please just please, he begged. The cold snapped at his face, so cold his nose turned red. Click. A fire, smaller than the one before, appeared. Maybe it was third time lucky.

Then the fire spread onto his gloves.

He was so shocked that he stared at it for a moment. And then the heat came and he nearly screamed, but that wasn't manly. He made something between a gasp and a shout, before turning around, searching for a source of water. The pain grew each second.

SNOW! His mind screamed at him, and for a moment he nearly facepalmed. Then the pain dragged him out of his trance and he plunged his hand into a convenient pile of snow beside him. He sighed in relief.

The cold! He pulled his hand out with such momentum some snow slammed into his face, causing him to gasp. It was so cold!! He quickly wiped the snow of his face, then stared at the glove on his hand. Or what was left of it. A black crisp with holes like swiss cheese that had no resemblance to the glove earlier.If not for it being on his hand, he would have mistaken it for charcoal. He shrugged the glove off his hand. It couldn't keep the cold out. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping for some warmth. If anything, his hand was so cold he nearly jumped when it came close to his thighs. And his cigarette wasn't even lit.

He picked up the lighter from the snow with his other hand. It was completely wet. He swore once more before shoving it into another pocket. And then he strode forwards.

His hand constantly felt cold. He remembered reading a book about it once, about frostbite. When it felt warm, his hand would be in danger. He shivered at the thought of his fingers being able to break off like ice.

He wanted to take out his hand but was scared that it would become colder. So he just continued walking. He just needed to get back to the town. Then that old lady would come by and scold him a little bit, and help him take care of his hand. He needed someone to take care of his hand.

He wiggled his fingers and frowned. Since when did his pocket become so small that he couldn't move them? He quickened his pace.

Maybe when he got back, he could kick back next to the radiator, drink a bowl of hot soup...

The thought of it made him smile.

And then he tripped on a root. F*ck, why was today so unlucky? He stood up, and pushed himself off the ground with his hands. Strange. He couldn't feel his hand. He stood ramrod straight. HE COULDN'T FEEL HIS HAND! F*ck! He strode faster.