The winds of winter made their way through the ruthless winter land, burying the world in thick Black king shirt of snow. The white landscape stretched eternally, as did its vast emptiness. A deep red spot stood out, and as I went further, my presence being marked by the footprints left in the snow, I saw more bits and pieces. Chunks of flesh, and splashes of blood. And before I knew it, I was at the centre of it all. Ahead on this tale of flesh and blood, my mother stood at a distance. Naked as the day she was born and yet I felt no feelings about that ill sight. I felt nothing at all. Her skin was pruned, and her body seemed slightly bloated. Her hair was damp, clinging to her head and neck. The hissing colds had not moved her.
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