Writing practise #1 - Cold night
_I was listening to some music and wanted to try to capture a certain emotion in writing. This is also a test to see, how well I can write stories in English directly.
I'd appreciate any feedback. The text is intentionally short and given without context. I may continue to write on it later though to give it context. There's potential for a full blown story in there :)_
No sound to be heard, only the imaginary brooding soundtrack in my head acompanies my muffled steps through the snow on the pavement.
It is a dark and chilly night, snowflakes dancing in the faint lights as they slowly fall from the black heavens above.
The frosty cold is creeping through the soft pockets of my jacket. I move my aching fingers to get some warmth, my wings pressed against me to protect me from the chill. Yet, not even the jacket on my body is enough to keep me warm.
Damnit, I'm supposed to thrive in this kind of weather, yet my fuzzy butt is slowly turning into a popsicle.
I press my arms against my sides and shiver. It seems that I'm the only idiot to talk a walk in this kind of weather.
Even the spooky shadows in the dark back roads apparently have gone into hiding.
House number 38. I'm halfway there.