Goodbye

The setting takes place in a small town called “Starkfield”. Starkfield is a town that is just like its name, it is boring, barren, severe, and harsh. Starkfield is known for its many harsh winters that leave the inhabitants bitter and in harsh condition. Starkfield is a village that lays “under a sheet of snow perpetually renewed from the pale skies” (pg.10).By the time the snow is gone and things are well it snows again. Not only is the snow harsh but it acts as a barrier to many of the residents keeping

wind having “cold fingers”. The wind is also described in the beginning as a “cold November

We had not gone a rod when we found ourselves in a heap, in a heavy drift of snow. We took hold of each others’ hands, pulled ourselves out, got into the road, and the cold north wind blew us down the road a half mile south, where the Strelow boys and John Conrad had to go west a mile or more. When they reached a bridge in a ravine, the little fellows sheltered a while under the bridge, a wooden culvert, but Robert, the oldest, insisted that they push on thru the blinding storm for their homes. In the darkness they stumbled in, and by degrees their parents thawed them out, bathed their frozen hands, noses, ears and cheeks, while the boys cried in pain. “My brothers and I could not walk thru the deep snow in the road, so we took down the rows of corn stalks to keep from losing ourselves ’till we reached our pasture fence. Walter was too short to wade the deep snow in the field, so Henry and I dragged him over the top. For nearly a mile we followed the fence ’till we reached the corral and pens. In the howling storm, we could hear the pigs squeal as they were freezing in the mud and snow. Sister Ida had opened the gate and let the cows in from the field to the sheds, just as the cold wind struck and froze her skirts stiff around her like hoops. The barn and stables were drifted over when we reached there. The roaring wind and stifling snow blinded us so that we had to feel thru the yard to the door of our house. “The lamp was lighted. Mother was walking the floor, wringing her hands and calling for her boys. Pa was shaking the ice and snow from his coat and boots. He had gone out to meet us but was forced back by the storm. We stayed in the house all that night. It was so cold that many people froze.” Although most of the information that was collected or the stories that were told were in South Dakota, Nebraska, North Dakota the temperatures took

Ashton was visiting for a weekend, it was only him. Calum had to stay back and look for Michael, as he had ran off again. I hugged Ashton and looked at him. Ashton got in my car and smiled. I hugged him tightly. “It’s been too long!” I yell and he laugs. “I like the hair, you changed it up a bit since the last time I saw you.” He greeted me, I smiled and shook my hair. I had dyed it blonde and brown. I decided I need a change. “How’s Tate?” Ashton looked at me while I was driving. “He’s on edge because of the baby, but he’s good. Brooklyn?” I smiled and he chuckled. “She’s 4 months,” It was all he needed to say. “You guys are having another fucking baby! Oh my gosh!” I squealed as my car came to a stop. Ashton blushed and felt my stomach. I felt her kicking. “Do you know yet?” He asked and I

Painted Girl’s expression shattered for a second. Sarah didn’t care for that look and quickly changed the subject.

As I stepped out of the airport, followed by my family, I was unprepared for the snowfall and icy pavement that is so commonplace in January in Michigan. If I had thought enough about it, I would have worn winter boots on the plane and maybe brought my puffy white coat to block the wind. Instead, I stood shivering in brand new, pink ballet-flat shoes, while snowflakes filled my eyelashes.

She nearly slide out of her seat when the car came to a stop, she lifted her head and looked at the male. “Worn someone when you are going to break the car so damn sudden.” She shouted at him. “I could have been killed.” She rolled her eyes. She knew she really wasn’t going to die but she could get badly hurt. “Why did you stop anyways we aren’t…” She turned her head to look out the window, she cocked her head to the side. She arched her brow a little. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” She spoke aloud so every in the car could hear

Snowflakes danced in the biting breeze, almost obscuring the near-solid wall of people shuffling past. From what their silent, mostly hidden observer could see, their noses and cheeks were red from cold, but they were smiling. Probably in anticipation of some gift or cheerful reception when they returned to their warm apartments. Figures.

I'll be out shortly,” I said, although there was nothing to talk about. I needed to clean Brian off my skin and get dressed. Walking around in a towel was not a good idea. At quick glance, my cheeks had a rosy glow that hadn't been there before, and my blue eyes sparkled like a woman in love. Mirrors were deceiving. I hadn't seen that stupid doe-eyed look in a long time and it pissed me off to see it now. Damn Brian Rigshaw, and his irresistible magnetism. Brian had a commanding presence, and he captivated me from the moment I first laid eyes on him. He was attractive sure, but there was something about him that made you stop and take notice, something that made me love him. I didn't want to feel this way. I'd made a series of bad decisions tonight. There were no take backs, and I couldn't hide forever, I would have to deal with all of

The Cumberland Plateau, a great jut of rock that stands at the foot of the Appalachian mountain range, tops out at 3,000 feet. The homes that rest along its knobby, heavily forested spine are sparse and rural. I stood on the open porch of my dad’s back yard, letting the ice wind cocoon me and soak into my bones. I love the winter in Tennessee. The air is clean and crisp in a way that it could never be in the warm, salty environment of my south Alabama home. My daughter, four years old and thickly wrapped in her own cocoon of winter coat, long-sleeve shirts and thermals, is holding my leg as if the wind will snatch her from me and carry her north and north to a place where the winds never cease. Alivia has always been uneasy on windy days. Her

He stomped his way out of the slushy snow as he headed home for the widow’s house. The temperature had dropped throughout the day, it was reported on the daily newspaper that the bad weather was only just the beginning of the winter yet-to-come. He had just came from school and was drained. He didn’t like being sivilized but, school had grown on him. He rubbed his hands together in an effort to keep warm as he walked the familiar street. When he spotted his gang leader, Tom with the others.

The picture of the surrounding for the readers is a territory of a snowed land with caked iced springs that is endless treacherous and deathly. “The man’s causal response to the cold to be at best naively reckless and at downright stupid.”

Ever since I was young I can remember going out on winter mornings to feed the cattle. On mornings like these that open a new window into the beauty of the land I’ve lived on my entire life. The morning starts off with the quiet rumble of the Chevrolet engine, as it warms up and the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance. As I walk out of my house, the cool, crisp air strikes my face and I’m fully awake, ready to start the morning. I head off into the snowy white desert and I begin to hear the frozen stems of grass snapping in two as we drive over.

“There you are….was looking all over for you.” The words were hollow, rehearsed verses fitting for an unpracticed school play. Aisling didn’t buy it, likely he had known where she was the entire time. She stepped forward until they were within one another’s reach and he released his hands from his pockets. “I admit I was rather surprised you contacted me. Your text said you wanted to talk. So…” he shifted cagily, discomfort plain on his face as his syllables trickled away. Opening her mouth, she found herself with nothing to say…or perhaps she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Noting her internal struggle, Mallory offered a weak smile before it crumbled as easily as milk-soaked cookies. “I know…it won’t help you or erase what was done but…for what it IS worth, I am so sorry.” Not as sorry as she would be, Aisling wanted to argue but instead she closed her mouth and mimicked his expression, only hers was produced with more

As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to the snow, the spittle crackled. He knew that at fifty below, spittle crackled on the snow, but this spittle had crackled in the air. Undoubtedly, it was colder than fifty below - how much colder he did not know.