Malcolm Winters

A little description of Malcolm Winters, more to come :)

Malcolm Winters was an extraordinary fellow, yet what made him so remained unknown, as was much akin to many extraordinary people. One could claim it was it frighteningly captivating charisma or the air of calm that followed him into a room, while another could debate as to whether it was indeed this or perhaps it was his kind face, clear blue eyes softened by delicately crinkled skin and a sprinkling of sun-induced freckles. It was true, that scientifically-claimed-perhaps-not-quite-explained theory that the sun makes a person happy, or at least it certainly was for Malcolm Winters. The British summers had treated him well, and he had done it all: strawberries and cream on Henman Hill, and boating trips on Lake Windermere, among other exciting excursions. Yet life had not always been a breeze, but rather a terrific wind.

It was the winter of Malcolm Winters’ life and the cold pursued him. No amount of layers and warm air expelled by the radiators of his suburban home could warm his aching body, or frozen heart. Time seemed to freeze too in the winter, the clock’s hands shivering and shaking in their ticking until they came to almost a complete standstill. Yet Malcolm Winters’ nail-beds had not turned an icy blue, nor did he shiver incessantly, for this cold was rather a different kind �" one less prone to causing pneumonia, but one far more debilitating than that of the desolate tundra of the poles. 

Author's Note

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