Friend Of The Dead

Ruination

The air is blue and keen and cold,

Curious thoughts swirled through Sophie's mind as she walked leisurely down the road, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow.

She looked up and surveyed the place around her, stumbling in the snow in the process because of her lack of attention to her feet. She fell to the ground, feeling snow under her hand.

Snow.

She could feel the snow. Not the phantom coldness through her gloves that was all she had been accustomed to, but actual cold snow, fluffy and frozen and, melting in her hand.

But it was strange, she couldn't fully feel the coldness, it was like she only felt what she expected of snow, not the actual coldness. Why was that?

She stayed on her knees on the ground, fisting the snow and looking up and around confusedly at the place she was at. She exhaled a breath and shook off the snow, and stood up on shaky legs resembling a newborn baby deer. She dusted the snow off her knees and pants. Once she noticed what she was doing, she stopped her actions to check out what she was wearing.

But why wouldn't she know what she was wearing?

She was wearing a long, black velvet coat that went past her knees and down to her ankles, unbuttoned and open, Sherlock Holmes style. On top, she wore a flimsy white chiffon shirt that was tucked into black skinny jeans, and for footwear, she had on leather boots up to her ankles. She felt the coat and shirt, touched the material with her fingers and frowned at the lack of gloves.

She stared at her bare hands strangely, furrowing her brows in confusion. She looked around, seeing only a blanket of white covering a forest. The woods were crisp, and the tree-branches bare, and the path was covered in snow. Silence resonated through the place. It bounced off the trees and hung in the air. Cold and empty, the place seemed almost dead. Devoid of life, except for her, but would she count?

She had no idea why she was here, or what had brought her here. And yet, the path she was standing on looked oddly familiar. It took her a second to realize that it was the path she used to take almost every day to get to the Cemetery. Not the one she takes with a car, but the one she used when she had no drivers' license and had been forced to take the path through the forest to get to her odd friends.

But she hadn't used this path in such a long time, so why was it, that she was here now?

Something told her to keep moving, it whispered in her ear that she would find out why she was here. She walked on, finding it odd that she felt the snow crunch under her boots. But why would it be odd? Snow was supposed to do that, wasn't it? The crunching sound was distant like she was hearing it through a glass-cup. Her clothes weren't all that appropriate for the weather, but she didn't feel cold, she didn't feel anything.

She stopped when she heard something.

A voice, echoing in through the forest.

She strained her ears and tried to focus on finding out what direction the voice was coming from.

But the echo had already vanished, and she had no choice but to slowly continue on walking. Snow was falling softly, the snowflakes sticking to her hair and face. Her breath was pale against the numbing air; she blinked thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed her face, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavy on her eyelashes. She adored the snow, more so when it was falling.

She stopped dead in her tracks when the voice made contact with her ears again, clearer this time, softer, and sweeter.

The air is blue and keen and cold,