The Angel Child (300 Words)

Wind and snow go hand in hand, just like us two. Her blonde curls are impossible to find beneath the white dirt caking her hair. Her throat has swallowed the wind, and her chest echoes with its rage. When she speaks, it’s like thunder tickling her tonsils, it sounds to me like laughter. Every so often, she breaks free and darts away, a game of chase! Hiding behind curtains of blistering white, I stalk her trail of giggles and burst upon her again, my growls causing her to convulse again in pleasure. I haul her up, trudge away from those angelic imprints she leaves behind.

Out of the white world, emerges a blot of darkness I pull her towards. I feel resistance, but I hold fast, and drag her feet inch by inch. “You’ll be warm and safe,” My breath is ripped away by the winter storm, smoke joining the daunting sky threatening to sandwich us between the snow and sky, crush us inside this white heaven.

“You’re trying to trick me,” Her accusation is like when she runs away; gleeful when I fight back and give chase. She pulls harder in the hopes I’ll drag her even faster, with more ferocity.

Even flesh like mine can blister. Rooted in the icy trenches, I duck down and gaze into her diamond eyes. A child born of winter. Her small hand cradled in my palm, suctioning what little heat had remained, and where does it go? It converts into rivulets of laughter and mischief sparkling in the crinkle of her smile. “It’s not a trick. Come with me.”

She never listens. She breaks free. I give chase. The blot of darkness shrinks behind us once again. “Come back. Come with me.” My cries get lost beneath the storm of her giggles.