Snow, Graves And Amsterdam

• Gabrielle Torreborre, Grade 8, Mosman High School
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

The snow buried Warner's feelings. It embedded them in the frost, weaved them in peppermint and kissed them with purple lips. They say that winter carries secrets. Warner's secrets were of broken hearts and forced laughter. Winter entwined them in sheets of snow and listened to their deepest sorrows. One more scar on his heart, meant it was one inch closer to spilling open.
Beside him was a girl made of smoke.
Warner reached out with numb fingers and tried to lace them with hers. Except the only fingers his cold hand found was the freezing air's breeze. The dead trees drooped around the clearance like skeletons, tangled in their own bones. With each step he took he thought about the girl. Each step was another compliment he would throw at her. Step. You look beautiful. Step. Laugh again, please, it makes me happy. Step. I love y-
His foot hit stone.
It was there. Her grave. She was next to him and yet she was six feet underground.
His head was pounding.
Her grave, Warmer repeated to himself. Her grave.
He didn't feel sad, angry or shocked. The feelings were so much stronger than that.
It felt like cold fingers were brushing his guts, punching them in loathing and shattering him like porcelain. The feeling was one that froze his insides until he turned to ice and slowly cracked open.
He collapsed onto the wet snow, a tear limping down his cheek.
Twigs snapped from behind him. Warner whipped his head up and glanced frantically around. Behind the wasted woods, stood a figure.
A man slowly walked over to where Warner's body had crumpled. He knelt besides Warner and unraveled his crippled frame, detaching his arms from his freezing torso.
He spoke softly, "Warner. What are you doing here? What good would you get out of visiting your girlfriend's gr-"
"She was here, Asher!" Warner interrupted, "Amsterdam, I saw her! She was walking next to me, she was smoky but so, so real. I promise you I saw her, Asher. I saw Amsterdam!" Warner was screaming.
He was shaking like a loose leaflet, Asher hung his arm around his brother's shoulders. He took Warner's hand in his and lowered them both to the stone grave.
"She's gone Warner, you know she is. Don't give yourself more pain, it's messing with your mind. Her soul is probably resting undisturbed somewhere, somewhere that's safe. She loved you but she's in a better place now."
What he said rang with so much truth, thought Warner.
They were in love. They were fools.
He cried into Asher's arms.
When Warner lifted his head again, Amsterdam was there, smiling at him. Then she disappeared.
But it was too late, Warner had seen the blood stains on the corners of her mouth. He knew that if she had risked a grin, blood would have come seeping out and crawling down her chin.