Disregard to the Divine

“It was in the death of winter that I ran the distance from my cottage and the city I’ve renounced long ago.”

{Do you not mean in the dead of winter?}

God asks the question to Jimmy Von Jordenstein III; he shakes his head in answer.

“It was a brutal murder.” Says he, “the rabbit told me all about it.”

{You should go back home; people are waiting for you}

“No, none wait for me now.” Jimmy scoffs, “not after the rabbit followed me past that dream—that nightmare.”

{Whatever they said, don’t listen to them. Not to that rabbit. Not to that thing.}

Jimmy walks away from the cold moon lighting him in blue. Slush of snow crunches under his leather boots, hiding feet paler than white.

{You are to regret this. Take my words before it is too late.}

As the weather freezes, a squirrel is lost to an icy tundra. Stone to a statue, it stands motionless to the heartless winds of nature.