By Chelsea Pierre
Night after night, the darkness brings chaos and cold. Frigid wind paralyzes my limbs. I wish they’d just keep my damn door shut. Pacing, mindless pacing, keeps irrational sanity intact. Numbed fingertips leave hands no longer useful for someone in my profession. A sigh slip my parted lips, breathing turning to ice. Cinnamon pelts steal my gaze to the ultimate temptation, but I can’t sleep yet. Another breeze runs through my tent, caressing my cheek before making its way out. My brown eyes meet Bearded Grimy-Face’s black ones as he delivers another black and blue body. I set to work but supplies are low. Beard hurries away, distracted by the nearby screaming, leaving the cold standing in his place. Something bright, blinding, erupts just outside. Glass falls, shatters. My saucer eyes cloud over. We die tonight.