Metaphorical Story

Completely metaphorical story. More than one meaning.

My best suggestion: have someone read you the story, then read the story. You make more connections that way.

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My December

            My December is hallowed ground. He walks arm-in-arm with Dark and Desolate Days, who each call out to him with cries of passion. His response is the uneven snowfall on a cloudy day, slightly swayed towards one side but just barely enough so he can blame it on the weather. His chilled breath hangs around his face and clumps together to obscure his true intentions. He asks Dark Days out one night for an evening spent along the seashore, where they trace insignia into the sand and shout praises to the stars, only to show up on Desolate Days’s doorstep, begging to kill the night. She lets him in, a hollow smile on her face, only pausing to lock the door behind her.

            My December is a wishing well. He threw himself out into sea but could never touch the bottom. He surfaced only to find himself alone again, the four leaf clover on the pillow beside him laughing at his pitiful state. He traced her smile on frosted glass and held the clover guiltily in his fist. He pulled the blinds shut and sipped the bottle of February Air in his hand, hoping its intoxicating effects will put him to sleep again. He held Hope’s clover close and thought hard. My December then brings it out to his wishing well and considers who would notice if he pitched himself in instead of the clover.

            My December is a robbery. He leaves nothing behind but only takes what he needs. The warm touch, the soft embrace, the lips curled in pleasure, no one has ever seen Dark and Desolate Days like he has. And no one ever will after he leaves them dead in his wake, another heartless victim whose name is now splattered over headlines. My December attends their funerals and refuses to talk to them after they stare at him with hollow eyes hidden behind a white veil and dress. He then takes the bottle of February Air and crawls his way back home, Hope’s four leaf clover tucked away carefully within his pocket, searching for a way to end a Hopeless night.

            My December is a nightmare. Every time he closes his eyes he sees her face. Every time he stares at the sunset, bringing forth a new day, he feels her voice on his ears, whispering to him what the new day should have brought. Every time he wakes in cold sweat, Hope’s name on his lips, it’s because she just touched him in his dream. My December tears the town apart, releasing his fury in a blizzard. The townspeople cower in fear until he almost drops his bottle of February Air. He drags himself back home that night, drunken and abused, to place the bottle back on the fourteenth shelf, far away from his heart.

            My December is hallowed ground. He’s never walked it alone but no one is ever by his side. My December dreams of being put to ashes, to just die and never return. My December walked that day, the Moon leading him with a serious gaze, the four leaf clover tucked in the pocket of his high school blazer. He stepped through the yard, death and decaying frost following his every footstep, until he found the marker he was looking for. My December stared, with hollowed eyes, at where Hope was buried, her body, however, they could never find. He laid down on the frozen earth, much comfier than his bed, and just when he thought the nightmares would start, they all slipped away. For My December could hear Hope’s voice:

            “This is My December. He is always so clear. His ice cold hands are mine to hold. His frozen breath is mine to feel. And I always felt like it was something I missed, but Hope knows best, to hold My December by her side.”

            For the briefest moment, My December felt himself change. My December was now Dark and Desolate Days’ lover, and they would never leave his side, but then where would Hope exist? In response, My December suddenly rationalized, as the snow fell all about him, putting him at peace, My December can only exist with Hope by his side.