A letter

A Chapter by Simoke

The cold winters morning air clutched his unexpecting lungs. Aquilo stepped outside his country cottage to lay eyes on a blank canvas of snow and ice. The lakes stood still, still as If time it's self ordered them to stop their endless motion. The fields of graven are quilted with layers upon layers of pure snowfall; this picturesque image would be a drug to any artists imagination, a pleasure to a persons state of mind. The sky was a natural grey. Though the ground lay the purest of any colour, the grey sky was a stained reminder of the earths tainted past; it is a reminder that our past burdens will always remain and will always remind. The black leafless trees were gatherd around, they looked as they were gatherd around a lifeless body, hounring the souls past entity. Aqulio adored this sight of winters art. To him, this was the greatest sight that could be seen,and ever will exsist; it reminded him him of a past lover whom he adored greatly but was no more. The sight was better than a sicking image of a beach, with every insignificant grain of sand resembling a person on this beach of a earth. It was better than the endless depths of space, which reminded him that anything we do, will be meaningless, insignificant and pointless in the great scheme of things; calling aquillo a pessimist would be a understatement, optimism didn't run through his veins.

He made is way, trudging forward through this painting. Icicles twinkle like dying stars as the cold rays of sunlight passed through the winter gems. He treaded swiftly through his field but something grabbed his eyes like a bird to its prey; his concentration was lost to this item. This item was like a rip to a painting, but it didn't ruin it, it added more intensity and awe; it was that extra detail that made it a masterpiece. He charged with such pace, the snow did not slow him; it was as if he was a solider charging his enemy. With his boots and trouser covered in damp snow after the stampede, he lunged for the item and held it in his grasp. It was a letter, written in a rouge ink on black leather. He began to read when all thought and breath stopped......" To Aquilo".

© 2013 Simoke

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems and feedback would be a blessing ( - jack

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The Mutterer

This is good Jack! You are very descriptive and have set the scene well, whilst subtly introducing the main character. I would suggest a little more developement on the him and/or the plot either in this chapter or the next depending o. whether this is finished.

I like the term 'winter's art' - this is very nice!

I am eager to read more of this.