Saturday, 22 August 2015


He inhaled the cold air, able to smell the snow. He, as well, could taste it. 
The chills traveled to his brain, numbing it, snatching away his capability to think. He looked like a corpse with his lips turning blue and eyes losing the white color. It was as if the death fell in love with him, changing him, COMPLETELY. Often love changes people and he was changing like the full moon losing its brightness. 
The open windows let in the cool gush of air, moving the curtains fiercely, forcing itself into his body, freezing everything that laid inside him. The pages of the book that laid open on the table, shivered, trying to turn themselves but the paperweight controlled the motion. The sound of the clock was bold and loud making the surrounding feel its presence as if giving an alarming evil grin, alerting things about the arrival of THE DEATH.

Time and death appear to befriend each other, none of them stops, none of them heals, none of them tells about the place it will take you to. The soul escaped, piercing his head, lifting itself lightly, disappearing into the thin air and the bells rung "Welcome".