“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭9:2‬ ‭ Today is the day we celebrate the great light. He came down to the creatures He made, let them torture, hate and murder Him because He loved us! He gave his life so we wouldn’t have to pay for our crimes! What love is this? Imagine making a beautiful creation and giving them everything, just for them to turn around and hate you with a viscous hatred. What love is this?
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I wanted to write a little! ___________________________________________________________________ It was snowing, but if one were to look about the alleyway they would be hard pressed to find a single snowflake that reached the ground. In fact, it would appear as though each individual crystal seemed to evaporate into a heavy mist thick enough to obscure the old brick masonry on either side of the alley. There was a modest layer of snow that had managed to find the pavement earlier in the day, it threatened to climb up the walls of the towering buildings, blending into the mist, creating a gradient, a seemingly endless abyss of white. Had there have been a light source it would have been blinding, but there had never been a darker, more claustrophobic walkway. Through an overwhelming silence, a single jet of heat pierced the mist. It forced the endless abyss to answer and summoned, for only a moment, tendrils of ice that once again threatened the ground before retreating back into the white canvas as the heat dissipated. There was purpose. Bristle inhaled. Those frigid tendrils revealed themselves again as they worked their way into his lungs. The poked and prodded at every heat source as they navigated a curious respiratory system. His blood took the air and reacted violently to the sudden drop in temperature, his heart slowed to a crawl, his body begged for warmth, for action. Bristle stood still. In the middle of the alley he was all alone. He was a prisoner of the abyss, a guest in a purgatory, and an insult to the perfect uniformity of the infinite snowy canvas. His lungs begged and pulled on his throat as though the systems of his body were prisoners themselves, banging on great ivory walls, agitating for liberty. He exhaled. Opening his mouth, the skin on his lips tore and threated to crack at the structures in his jowls and cheeks. Whatever moisture the body would have kept in the skin, waiting among the pores should a man overheat and need to sweat, had frozen. And his breath, much like his skin, came to resemble the world about him. This time, there was no jet of heat. The mist did not react. No sheet of ice recrystallized to threaten the blanket of snow beneath him. It was unclear from how far the light had originated. It was dim, creeping from a window, but even a dim light caused the alleyway to explode into a festival of reflected colors. The abyss had vanished in an instant, the reflective nature of ice and snow and frost banished every particle of dust or mist in the air, thrusting the area back into a reality. Although in this reality, no one stood in the alley. Perhaps no one had ever stood in the alley. It had stopped snowing as well, although, perhaps it never had been snowing. There was someone standing here. I think.
274 views · Nov 29th, 2020

More from Night_Shade

repeat
274 views
I wanted to write a little! ___________________________________________________________________ It was snowing, but if one were to look about the alleyway they would be hard pressed to find a single snowflake that reached the ground. In fact, it would appear as though each individual crystal seemed to evaporate into a heavy mist thick enough to obscure the old brick masonry on either side of the alley. There was a modest layer of snow that had managed to find the pavement earlier in the day, it threatened to climb up the walls of the towering buildings, blending into the mist, creating a gradient, a seemingly endless abyss of white. Had there have been a light source it would have been blinding, but there had never been a darker, more claustrophobic walkway. Through an overwhelming silence, a single jet of heat pierced the mist. It forced the endless abyss to answer and summoned, for only a moment, tendrils of ice that once again threatened the ground before retreating back into the white canvas as the heat dissipated. There was purpose. Bristle inhaled. Those frigid tendrils revealed themselves again as they worked their way into his lungs. The poked and prodded at every heat source as they navigated a curious respiratory system. His blood took the air and reacted violently to the sudden drop in temperature, his heart slowed to a crawl, his body begged for warmth, for action. Bristle stood still. In the middle of the alley he was all alone. He was a prisoner of the abyss, a guest in a purgatory, and an insult to the perfect uniformity of the infinite snowy canvas. His lungs begged and pulled on his throat as though the systems of his body were prisoners themselves, banging on great ivory walls, agitating for liberty. He exhaled. Opening his mouth, the skin on his lips tore and threated to crack at the structures in his jowls and cheeks. Whatever moisture the body would have kept in the skin, waiting among the pores should a man overheat and need to sweat, had frozen. And his breath, much like his skin, came to resemble the world about him. This time, there was no jet of heat. The mist did not react. No sheet of ice recrystallized to threaten the blanket of snow beneath him. It was unclear from how far the light had originated. It was dim, creeping from a window, but even a dim light caused the alleyway to explode into a festival of reflected colors. The abyss had vanished in an instant, the reflective nature of ice and snow and frost banished every particle of dust or mist in the air, thrusting the area back into a reality. Although in this reality, no one stood in the alley. Perhaps no one had ever stood in the alley. It had stopped snowing as well, although, perhaps it never had been snowing. There was someone standing here. I think.
274 views · Nov 29th, 2020