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Dead Drop
by
Dusk Soul
BROADGATE
The snow crystals traced their winding and arcing paths from the heavens above, as hell below froze over. The glacial air cut to the bone. Ice laden winds whirled and swept their grasp out amongst the unfeeling tomb stones. Breathing the icy rasping breath of death, into the all but lifeless cemetery; in the midst of the bleak three a.m. hour.
The frigid air carried along with it, the currents of absolute solitude and an utter absence of solace. This night, the full moon cast its rays through the edges of the cumulous clouds; painting the sky in a silvered iridescence.
Where it chanced to permeate the cloud cover, and the snow as it drifted about; it would reflect off snow banks. Making the snow drifts appear as ghostly phantasms.
Wraiths gliding in and out of the shadows of the night, in serpentine paths as they fragmented and dissipated into nothingness.