Decaying Winter Yosef Novels & Stories

*Winter* The air was thick with dread, a palpable tension that clung to me like an unwelcome shroud. Each strained breath felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the ominous atmosphere surrounding the Whispering Reef. Walking side by side with Aaron, I couldn't shake the prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Was it just the chill of the winter air, or was there something far more sinister lurking just out of sight? The trees loomed tall and twisted, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers against the bruised sky, casting everything in an unsettling shade of gray.

At this point, I wanted to thank him for going to such lengths to get rid of me that he had changed my college placement to somewhere close to home, while sending himself and Rachel to a campus far away. ALS was a volatile illness that progressed slowly. Since Jose valued his life above all else, he strictly followed the doctor's orders and would soon be stable enough for discharge. When that happened, we would be thousands of miles apart with a clean, permanent break. … One afternoon, I walked into the ward while Jose was napping. Out of habit, I reached for the phone on his nightstand, but he jolted awake and snatched it away. I was startled. When he realized it was me, he embarrassedly ru

" With that, I turned and grabbed Amelia's hand before walking away. "Charlie Holland! Charlie, stop!" Mom screamed from behind. Melanie tried to catch up, but in the end, she stopped in her tracks. As she watched my determined silhouette, she finally understood that some people, once lost, could never be found again. … It had been two years since I'd come to Valdora. This winter, it finally started to snow. On New Year's Eve, Amelia came knocking on my grandparents' door in the middle of the night. "Charlie, come out! It's snowing!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me outside.

They’d essentially had the room turned into a fireplace, surrounding us with enough brick and mortar to contain the blaze to that section. I don’t remember much from the days that followed. Only that three days later, I’d woken up to birds chirping, the sun shining brilliantly, and gorgeously bright flowers blooming—in the middle of winter—way too soon for their appearance. Within a day the biting sting of Vetur had returned with a vengeance so bitter I’d known I’d offended its current host. A fact evidenced by the frost covered grounds, lack of plants and chirping birds, and the urge to burrow beneath several layers and hibernate. I’d felt the need to call and apologize to the Vetur because

The cell phone had no signal, and I'm sure that if I were to call someone, they wouldn't be here in time to defend me. I slowly backed away from the forest; the wolf was still there, looking at me untouched and with a thirst for human blood. Then the wolf advanced, and I froze in place as if not moving would serve any purpose. I was paralyzed. The wolf is black-haired, huge, and its eyes are as black as the night. It reminded me of Kessler. I felt a tear roll down my cheek; I knew it was my end. It hurts for my father, for Lucas; they'll be alone and feel the loss of another person.

But when winter finally came, that Christmas scene had hit me like a brick to the head. I didn't look forward to skiing anymore, and I didn't even like Christmas now. Xander nodded thoughtfully and said nothing more.

On New Year’s Eve, Kian Newman never came home. Instead, he had someone deliver a container of frozen ravioli and sent me a single message: "Stay safe this year." I had barely locked the screen when a photo popped up in the company group chat. Isabel Wilkinson, Kian's assistant, had posted it. It was a lavish holiday dinner spread across the table, every dish clearly homemade. The caption read: "Someone spent all day cooking so I could have a taste of home. Love you."

But I no longer had the heart to stay and admire the scenery. On the journey back, the wind poured into my collar, cold enough to chill me to the bone. And somewhere behind me, that gravestone had already faded from sight.

The letters were neat and permanent. I stood under the sunlight, yet I felt like a rat that belonged in the shadows. I felt small and ashamed, like a person with no identity I could admit out loud. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and answered quietly, “Just a distant relative.” The old man nodded. “That makes sense. If you were close family, there is no way you would have missed the memorial ceremony Mr. Ferguson held three years ago.” “You should have seen it. The whole thing was grand. Mr. Ferguson organized a private memorial for his parents and invited relatives, friends, and many important business people.”

This was all wrong. After three years as Yosef's secretary, Zara knew Mondays were his busiest days at work. He hardly ever came to the Webbs' place, so why show up now and at such an odd time? Zara's brow creased for a moment. Two months had passed, yet he looked exactly the same. Winter had wrapped Starville in its chilly embrace, with the temperature dipping below 50 degrees. Yosef, in his black suit, was shrugging off a long cashmere coat and handing it to the helper. He had just come in.