Warnings:Mentions of animal death (not graphic). Generally upsetting content regarding death, disease, and mentions of blood.A good amount of angst.
Word Count: 9.5k
A/N: First and foremost, thank you to @watercolourdreamerfor editing the last two chapters and generally being amazing - I’m forever in your debt for the amount of help you gave me. They’re an angel, and they helped make this story what it is- not to mention, they’re an incredibly talented writer, so make sure to check out their work!
I also wanted to clarify that this is not the last chapter! There will be a few more, so hang in there! And lastly, I want to thank everyone for your support on this story. It means the world to me! If you’re so inclined, comments are a lovely means of inspiration, and I appreciate them endlessly. With that being said, enjoy!
Even after the winter holiday ends, the bitter cold continues on. You find yourself very grateful for the blanket you’d made as the chill slowly stretches itself over your surroundings, burying everything in ice and frost.
Soon,you find yourself thinking. Just hold on a little longer, and then you’ll feel the sun on your face, watch the lunar blossoms bloom, and maybe even plant some lobelias with Viktor in the soft spring dirt.
Okay. Jeez. Ahh. This. Jams, you kicked it out of the park.
The prose is utterly poetic with such striking, evocative imagery, and the nature motifs alluding to themes of life, death and rebirth? Mary Shelley and the Brontë sisters would be proud. Immensely so.
Okay, but can we also talk about these three paragraphs?
You’d tried to convince yourself that you wouldn’t be afraid when this day came, but you are. You really are.
You’re terrified.
More than you’ve ever been. This is utter panic, and there’s nothing like it. The fear your mother or father tried to drill into you might as well be a pinprick of fear compared to the freely bleeding terror you’re feeling now.
Firstly, impaled the angst right into and through my chest. I’m dead. But that’s okay. Secondly, what a superb way to build upon how fear was described by them in part two; an almost religious fear of death that’s indoctrinated into you from birth. Then use that context to juxtapose the sense of abject horror they’re feeling right now. Ahhh. My heart.
Thirdly, the pacing of the sentences — from long to jarring fragments and building length again to their final epiphany— elicits a disquieting cadence to the internal maelstrom of their emotions as they truly process and realise the gravity of their situation.
I doff my hat to you Jams. You have excelled in achieving what you set out to do. I’m so damn proud of you.
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If you haven’t already, please read the rest of Jams’ works. They’re such a talented, assiduous writer who constantly awes me with their dedication to their craft.
