Jitters cling to your ankles as you walk through the snow-baren streets. They’re empty, and you’re alone, in the quiet of January

At last, you find a person, shoveling their sidewalk. But they pass you by coldly, bitten by the curse of January

Never again will the sun light up in perfect light, never will the grass grow, the bees buzz, or the birds sing. At least not, in January.

Unable to think clearly, frost coating your mind, you stumble away towards home, the only safe place in the world of January

Any movement at all, your head whips toward it, eyes narrowed, prepared for a fight. It goes on until you stumble inside, locking the shut behind you. Never before have you locked your door. Only in January.

Rainfall turns to snowfall, and snowfall turns to blizzards. Huddled up inside your house for warmth, the storm rages outside. It grows stronger, fueled by our remoteness caused by January

Years after years, it gets darker. Colder. The snow holds steadfast, freezing our world into an icy plain until it’s too exposed to even look at...

January.