Crimson Fall
The air is calm and still; frozen lace on the world, delicate and cold like waves on sallow sand that has a certain moistness to it. Trees line the outskirts of the woods like towering giants with naked branches, lumps of snow as thick as cake frosting that’s adorned with blazing, brilliant light blue. Their denuded forms stand starkly, almost like charcoal outlines sketched by a passing artist and limbs that not long ago adorned with the vibrant colours of autumn that now lies an unblemished white layer like a mother, cradling and nurturing its child. Clusters of twigs, gnarl and twisted, extend like the very hands of an old man, ready to catch the soft falling flakes. Against the dark trunks, a brilliant white drift rises in soft curves and fall again to the hidden earthy ground.
Dark cracks lie in the bark like scars, yet each woody crevice only serves to make them more bewitching. With roots bury deep in the frozen earth, they sleep peacefully, stirring in their wintry dreams, deep in slumber, waiting and silently dreaming of spring. Shadows still find a way to dance around the outskirts of the land while there isn’t light to luminate. A small silhouette, sleek and fluid, stands still underneath the looming shadow of a colossal structure as if they’d just been sketched out on a rough piece of paper, barely visible in the darkness. The clouds drift slowly apart as though wisps of vapour and sallow moonlight struggles to get through. Darkness is almost absolute, only a smattering of luminous stars scatters the heavens like small gems, shining luminously in the abyss. In that moment, a bleak, thin wind blows through the woods like a fine sour wine, searching the marrow and bringing no bloom. Silver beams manage to shine through the clouds and down onto the dark woods like a diffuse ocean above, lessening the inky blackness of the night but not so bright as to dull the stars that speckle and glitter in the heavens above, hidden by clouds. The woods are bathe in brilliant moonlight, glistening like a quilt of molten silver, streaming its light across the white land. The snow sparkles like small, shimmering gems that glow bright white and hues of faint light blue with shimmering sequins like tiny stars.
The wind whistles through the trees with no leaves to shelter the harshness of the winds, shivering in the bitter unable to escape the clutches of hands that threaten the land. Tiny snowflakes slowly sprinkle from the night as if they’re dancing to a soft melody and like sugar, sprinkling to the ground in soft, white layers like rain that sprinkle down onto the moist white and naked trees. The falling snow has a soothing sound to it, a natural melody that every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum. The clouds drift apart more that they seem to vanish throughout the night as more moonlight to flood the colossal structure. The cold damp air wraps around the building like a heavy coat of chain mail. The structure appears to be a mansion that looms proudly as if it has its own personality and has a quaint atmosphere. From the outside, this mansion looks luxurious extravagant. The layout of the mansion had been built with fine wood which is painted white with rich hues of grey and silver. Rows of tall, double frame, wide windows add to the overall style of the mansion and had been added in a mostly symmetric way possible with the frames covered in lumps of snow. The building is shape like a U with one, tall tower amid of the mansion. The second floor is the same size as the first which has been built exactly on top of the floor below it. This floor follows the same style as the floor below. The roof is low and is in a low pyramid shape that’s tiled with dark greyish blue slates of tiles. Rows of tall, skinny frame, small windows that are rough let in little or no light to the rooms below the roof and on the second floor. Massive dark oak wooden doors amid of the building with that’re like French double doors. The building itself is surrounded by a dead yet alive, scenic garden. The delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding silence.
The silhouette reveals to be a shivering child, her bare feet grace the ground like new petals on grass, soft and delicate yet without the light of the sun, she’s only a promise of beauty as she has the type of face that would never age. The girl has a petite, slender and curvaceous, hourglass body delicate as a flower as if one word will shatter her into pieces. Her skin is complex and flawless that’s natural creamy white like snow as if like silk, weaving by a celestial hand that’s shining luminously under the silver light and she’s below average height. Her hair as waves of pure earth, softly reflecting the light of the moon; each strand moving freely in an ocean born breeze, a compliment to her stillness. The strands flow down, cascaded her back and stopping in a line around her hips while her messy bangs that covers her forehead. Her large liquid violet eyes hold no warmth and are lifeless and cold like a calm, uncharted violet sea with small red stars, shimmering brightly with stillness and radiating with coldness. Her form-fitting nightgown is a pristine white as fresh snow, falling softly that extends outwards instead of clinging to her body. It pools around her like liquid silk as it caresses her body like a blanket wrapped around a newly born infant. Pristine silk ribbons tie around her waist that extends to her knees. The child is like a goddess, taken the breaths of the world into her own and breathe new life and beauty yet is stolen by the coldness of the night. The wind stops and only a breeze like the ocean blows, making her nightgown flow and hair as if only a flowing outline of black. The girl stands there utterly alone and no place to go, bends over against the cold, protecting her eyes with her arms. Trees loom in her vision then vanish, swallow in white. Cold licks at her face as it creeps under her clothes, spreading across her skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter night. Cold stalks her through the mountain passes like a spectre of death. The bitter wind laughs as it tore right to her heart and her muscles begun to ache and grind like the cogs in old machine.
The brunette stands alone and utterly terrified in the darkness while the dark consumes her frail form. Dread sinks faster than a coin on a pond as her blood turns to ice as fear washes over her like a tidal wave in a storm. Her skin becomes icy and pale as death itself. Her eyes frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. She bites on her lower lip as her eyes turn glossy with tears like smooth glass and her stomach growls and rumbles silently as fear sweeps through her, slowly devouring her like the pitch darkness of the void, lost forever in sorrow. Her watery eyes enlarge and the hairs on the nape of her neck bristle. A gaggle of goose pimples animate her frigid, naked skin. Tiny flakes of frost have a trace of white around the edges as if they’re almost filled with their cherry red hue yet not quite and as if they await the divine hand to complete them. The smell of a discreet, metallic scent fills the air as she slowly walks towards the smell. Horrified, she stares at the blood snowflakes with fear. The child's silent weeping was worse than a tantrum or screaming. Her eyes well up with icy water, a sadness her young years should not possess.
They shower her soul; the silence of her cry is eerie like she had been forced to learn how to do this. Her vision becomes blurry with tears dwell in her eyes. Her bottom lip quivers, the same as a baby pushes past endurance while her eyes become glacier light violet like blue, churning to dark blue and cold as if under the sheen of water constant. The sadness flowing through her veins that deadens her mind is like a flowing river, cold and unending, filling with poison to her spirit, killing off her other emotions until it’s the only one that remain. It’s as if a black mist has settled upon her and refuses to shift that washes all the goodness out of her and left her a mere shell of what she had once been. For the world is lost to her and she knows of nothing that would bring it back into focus. Flakes pelt against frozen cheeks, cling to eyelashes and hair while numb exposes skin, pain in fingertips and toes creates an exhausting chore to break a trail through accumulative snow drifts. She raises her hand over her mouth, the other rigidly clutching the white of her nightgown. Unable to look away from the gruesome sight, silent tears flow past her plump, pink cheeks and over her knuckles until finally, dripping onto crimson snow. Her eyes widen as she stares at the amount of blood on the white and lowers her head. Under the wintry light of the woodland, two corpses lie like dolls over the soft snow with their limbs at awkward angles and heads hold in such a way that they can’t be sleeping peacefully. Their life that once flow through their veins dwelt within them has gone. Hearts that use to beat with love are gone and minds that feel so many emotions are blank without the spark to bring the warmth back; abandoned shells left to rot in the open. Not far from the mansion, a woman lays perfectly still like as if she’s laying on a bed of carnations. Her golden blonde long hair glistens brilliantly under the moonlight as it appears rippling languidly with light waves. Her alexandrite brown eyes are wide open; glossy and dark, sunken just a little which hold a sudden sadness yet happiness that once dance with light are now vacant and staring into the heavens. The once rosy complexion is waxy and pale like a doll as if made by a divine hand and the mouth lies stiff and slightly agape with lips plum pink like a cherry blossom. Even with all this, staring at her lifeless form, she can’t believe she’s gone.
Laying not far from the woman, a man utterly still. His brown hair is scatter in multiple places, stain with fresh crimson. His brownish red eyes are fix and vacant on an invisible matter, staring blankly without life to warm them. His white, long-sleeve collared shirt, stain with fresh blood is moved in the evening breeze and his dress-shirt billow; the rest of him is utterly still. Against the pristine snow, like millions of red flowers blooming, the droplets of blood fall to the ground, creating a stark trail into the dark forest. Small droplets have tumble and spread into the white making arcs of crimson.
For what seem like hours staring at them, her mind cold and empty. Two eyes appear, glowing like miniature suns. Even in the dim light, the girl could make out the form of the creature. A foul being of dread and death stares at the small girl with bloodthirsty eyes and bellowing fury which are glowing bright blood red, faintly in the shadows of the looming trees. Calm breathing escapes the creature's thin nostrils set within a fibrous nose. The creature moves forward slowly as if the blackness is moving finely, its two legs effortlessly carry its cursed body with a furious energy. A long and scruffy tail sways behind its back legs. Out of the shadows, the creature becomes more and more menacing and its eyes stare intently into hers and another howl echoes from its serrated mouth as if it were a battle cry. Bellowing mist and flowing shadows adorns its gaunt head which itself is thick as night. With each step it takes, it claws the icy white ground, getting closer and closer to the girl. What appears a grin that split the creature's face with its rows of vicious, sharp teeth like daggers. The stillness of the air seems to be sucked as if the sound died altogether like the sound of a graveyard. The trees seem not to rustle as if they’re tense with nerves for what is to come. It’s the kind of silence that falls right before a knife in the back. The girl feels as she couldn't breathe as if someone is choking her. A draft waft up into the blackness of the night as the light reveals the creature to be a hybrid of a wolf. Her heart is racing and all she wants to do is curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her.
A choke cry for help forces itself up her throat as she feels a single droplet run down her cheek. She wants to look away from him but couldn’t as if her eyes are glued to him. The wolf walks slowly towards the child, snow crunching under his feet and every step he takes sends shiver up people’s spine when the noise stops as if he froze on the spot.
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