Blood-Stained SnowmenMature

Haven't written a story in a while, so heres a new one for anyone that wants to read it, not sure which direction its gonna end in yet, but its about a man, who seems to always have a terrible time when winter comes around, and not for the reasons you normall associate with winter :D:D:D

George lay on his sofa, reflecting on the events of the previous
year, reflecting on the harsh winter that had ripped his family apart. Now he
was alone, no one to talk to, nothing interesting to talk about, just watching
terrible TV, for days on end. Waiting for the winter to come again and take his existence.

 It had all began, just over a year before, in the autumn of his
66th year.

The day had commenced like any other, waking up he didn’t quite
feel like getting out of bed and so fell back asleep only to be awoken again a
matter of minutes later by the shrill ringing of his phone. It was his son, 32
years old, and a banker, with two kids and a beautiful wife, his son was constantly
busy, always doing something or going to some important meeting, but he was a
good kid really, tried to phone his dad every weekend, visited him whenever he
could, but still this phone call surprised George.

“Hi, Dad, how’re you?” it began, as per usual.

“I’m not too bad, just woke up, and you?”

“I’m great Dad; I can’t stay on for long, I have to go to work. I just wanted to invite you to my house for dinner next weekend?”

“Yeah, of course son”

“Ok, well I’ll see you next weekend then, bye, love ya” and so the phone call was ended, for a few minutes he wondered why his son was in such a hurry, but it quickly left his mind as he got set into his daily routine.

He got up and sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to move
too quickly, having had back problems in the past, then after another minute
went to make himself something for breakfast.

After having some toast and scrambled eggs, he went for a quick
shower, before getting dressed and heading out.

 As he locked his front door, he felt a chill on the back of his
neck, like someone was watching him, but he turned around, nothing, it must
have just been the wind. And so he set about his daily routine, heading
straight to the shop at the end of his street.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed