The Solace of the Solstice
He turned off the television and stood by the frosted window, staring into the heliotrope December night as snowflakes drifted slowly from the billows of gray above. The room was brighter than what his eyes expected at this hour, chilling his heart. The rest of the world was in deep and restful slumber, but his thoughts drew him to the woods. The mouth of the path between the ash trees would be buried in a deep and undisturbed layer of white, but within the barren forest blanketed in ice he imagined the darkest place for which his heart could yearn.