Followed by Frost

by Charlie N. Holmberg

I have known cold, the chills with which even the deepest winters cannot compare. I have lived it, breathed it, and lost by it. I have known cold, for it dwelled in the deepest hollows of my soul.

my father had resigned himself to what must be, and I did not care to see the pain that ate him up inside, a pain that surely must have surpassed my own, for his had come by choice, and with choice came guilt.

“Winter is the dearest friend to those who have chosen to be cold.”

I noticed a lighter brown around his pupils, a color like the predawn desert, before the sun could turn it gold.

he could say in a moment of silence what a normal man would take an hour to relate.

He smelled like sandalwood and cardamom.

me. His laughter made me laugh, his thoughts made me think, and his silence made me listen to each intake of his breath.

I always saw novels as an outlet for which the mind can escape this world, not be tethered to it.”

The mind and heart are two separate entities, and one cannot control the other—Dideh

how often I had played the part of the fool, but I learned from it every time. This new pain would ultimately help me grow stronger; I knew that. But it ached so terribly, and I felt so very, very cold.

For happiness has wings, and when burdened by the things a man should want, Garen could not reach it.

Happiness had wings; I could only hope to be the wind that helped him fly.