Winter, so cold yet so beautiful.
Soft fair skin, long white hair, and piercing blue eyes.
One breath and the coldest wind swirls.
One gaze and time stands still as flurries of snow fall around her.
Anger her and be prepared for a blizzard.
Summer, the hottest of the sisters.
Some say she has a bit of a temper, as her anger unleashes the heat of the sun.
Her eyes are as green as the trees and grass.
Golden blonde hair flowing in the warm breeze created by her relaxed breaths.
Her bronzed skin soaking up the last bit of sunlight as the sun sets over the beach.
Autumn is not as intense as her sisters, often looked upon for balance between Summer and Winter.
Her auburn brown hair is wrapped into bun as she sips her coffee.
Not a morning person, she always adds an extra hour of sleep to her night.
Her hazel eyes change the colors of the leaves, watching as they slowly make their descent toward the ground.
Her wardrobe of chunky sweaters and tall boots prepares her for when it's Winter's turn and brings in the deep chill.
Last of all the sisters, is Spring.
Spring brings a breath of fresh air to renew all that were damaged by Winter's harsh words.
When her olive eyes mourn the death of nature, a thunderous rain prepares everything for the transition into Summer.
Spring's mood changes by the day, bringing either a pleasant or dreary day.
Year after year, Spring equips us with the strength to endure Summer's beauty.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Gabrielle Greetan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Mysterious Notebook
As I look through all of my dad's belongings, trying to hold back my tears, I see a strange notebook on the floor of the attic. It has been three months since my dad passed away and I am finally able to sort through the things left to me in his will. So here I am, in a hot attic a few weeks before my birthday, looking at a bunch of junk that my dad never threw away. Yet, this notebook does not look like junk. I bring it downstairs and sit on the couch to look at it. It looks like whatever is in it was quite important to my dad. The front of it has a weird title on it called 'Bitcoin'. "Isn't Bitcoin that virtually currency?", I think to myself. "Why would dad have a notebook with 'Bitcoin' on it?". I never thought of my dad as savvy with technology. I had to set up his first smartphone for him and teach him how to use it. So for him to have something potentially connected to Bitcoin is intriguing. Once I open the notebook I am shocked at what I find. The first page is packed with names and contact information, but the one that sticks out the most is 'Satoshi Nakamoto'. I have never heard of this name before, so I take out my phone and dial the number underneath the name. "This number does not exist? Why would my dad have a number that does not exist?" I say to myself. That is when I start to flip through the pages of the notebook and a piece of paper falls out. The paper says:
By Gabrielle Greetan3 years ago in Geeks
I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.