Winter by Heba Al-Qattan

Posted on November 22, 2014 by

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Stretched across the earth lies a thick and heavy sea of freeze. Winter warriors soldier on against the pale, gusty wind, feeling as if they are wasting their lives. But they will fight. They will fight whether the ground is green, grey, or white. They will fight, and they will win and they will weep a river of tears so cold that their eyes turn into ice. But for now, they rest. Even the rulers of the world sleep, so why shouldn’t their soldiers? After weeks of wobbling and waddling in the snow, they rest under the willow trees, which have long and wispy leaves attached elegantly to its branches. The willow tree is certainly the Rapunzel of all trees. And so the warriors rest inside this cave of hair, with their frozen cheeks hugged by their insulated arms. They feel frozen, and yet, they are sweating. The winter warriors collectively share a mood of nervousness as they begin to fall asleep, one by one. But they will fight. They will fight tomorrow. The will fight whether the ground is green, grey or white. But watch. Watch as they rest. Watch as the ice changes color. The ground is no longer a green, grey nor white, but a deep red beneath each soldier, marking the end of his life.

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