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Under October’s feet stands a priest picking up
the ashes of those he ever loved and those
he’ll never meet. Maybe it was suppose to end
this way? Holy Brother of the Juniper Gardens
with the sackcloth of infertility, a motionless cymbal.
This is the sound of the basement tape;
this is the kingdom of seclusion.
You’ll be thrown under the ventricle valleys,
you’ll be lead away like a widow burying
her stones. Those who choose to follow,
those who choose to eat from the crop
that grows from the anchors
must deny it. But if we were to
cut down the rainforests and append
them on the cross,
would we be that much closer to meeting God-
of the vigils from the formless snow?

Snow Demons

I've never found love in the snow.

For years,
I've watched little girls press
tiny pink noses against icy panes.
Elated squeals tickling their lips;
as they watched snowflakes skip down and
say hello to the grass.

Every brown eye;
opening up to pine-needle lashes
that dance to the music
of the northern winds...
and filled with visions of
snow-angels holding hands.
The one she made with the one
her crush made.

Those tiny lips;
poking out from underneath a toboggan
that's two sizes too big,
as they find warmth against two
other lips that are
trembling, trembling.

I once asked a little girl why she
always danced when it snowed.
"Can't you feel it? It's different when it snows.
Everybody finds what they want when it snows."

I've never found love in the snow.

Snow Angel

December 23, 2008

Amy Solas snuck out around 1:15 AM, and found Damon waiting down the block, in his red Honda Civic, headlights off. They knew this would give them a few hours before her father found out.

The snow fell heavily; visibility was low, as they drove towards the county line. She stared at her map and compass, hardly understanding the symbols on either.

They pulled off the road near Willow's Park, and tried to make sense of the map in the starlight. Failing, he flung himself to the ground, and began flapping his arms. After a few seconds, shivering, he stood up, glanced at his snow angel, and frowned. He glanced at her and said, "This doesn't look anything like you." She smiled, and they kissed.

Whether he could no longer withstand the cold weather or the heat between them, he guided her to the backseat of his car. He poured several celebratory shots of whiskey, which they split evenly, and they drifted together, fogging up every window in the car.

Around 3:30 AM, they each took one last shot, and again began driving down the road, a little above the speed limit, trying to make up for lost time. The snow was falling heavier, and the faster they went, the less they could see. Every tree ran together; every snowflake looked exactly the same.

At about 3:45 AM, a mile from the county line, a deer ran across the road, and he slammed on his brakes to no avail. The car skidded off the one lane road into a dying evergreen. She flew out the window, and spilled her drink all over the snow.

I found them there the next morning, as shards of daylight began melting the snow. He laid there next to her, still but shivering, his hand sewn to hers with the needle of his compass.

I pulled out my pistol, and shot him through the temple.

The evidence and reports regarding this investigation have been submitted to the District Attorney's office.

CASE #: 2008-00143
PREPARED BY: Deputy Timothy Solas
Last edited by bassbeat77 at Feb 3, 2009,
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Quote by uk.mace
That's brilliant!

le red piece.
really great writing, entertaining and thought-provoking as well