Midwinter is cruel.
The air is dry–has always been dry–but the cold makes it sharp, makes it leech warmth and life from all it touches. Crops do not grow, the sun does not shine so much as glimmer faintly with fatigue. There is no snow, just harsh winds and dust in the air.
Midwinter is cruel, especially in the smaller towns.
Without high walls or tall buildings to block the winds, to provide minimal relief, stepping outside is a trial and a half. While indoors, the townspeople remain hopeful in fending off the winter with fires and blankets and body heat. Stepping outdoors is akin to a death sentence.
Midwinter is cruel, especially in the smaller towns, particularly towards the lonesome.
It’s just another fact of life. While nature can be cruel, at least it is cruel indiscriminately. The same cannot be said of people. But he’s lived through worse and will do so again in the future. There is not much he will avoid suffering through during his existence. For it is a long existence, indeed.
Perhaps, it would be more apt to say: existence is cruel.
~
A/N: I swear I don’t know why I even bother with word prompts if I’m just going to not use said word anyway.
This one was actually kind of hard, though. Which explains why my drabble was just completely off the mark. Like, I had multiple ideas flicking through my head so fast and this was the only one that stayed long enough for me to write so. I don’t even like this. 😦
JackSGreyson Says 