Daily Writers Prompt: Personification Short Story | Pessimist Poetry

The wind whipped up and the hillside raised its hackles. Can you come up with a few descriptions that ascribe an animalistic quality to something that doesn’t breathe?

For this personification short story I kind of attributed human qualities along with animal qualities into inanimate objects and things that don’t breathe. I kind of goofed, but like how it turned out overall. Short and sweet, I also left the ending somewhat ambiguous in regards to what the danger is that’s chasing our main character in the frozen tundra. The idea came from the biting cold we’re facing in Michigan, sapping away all thought and motivation to do anything other than lie in bed and wait for spring and forgotten warmth to embrace the land once again. Enjoy!

He stood there, desolate and alone among an army of snowflakes that bounded across miles of fields before disappearing in a sea of dead trees. The cold bit into flesh despite layers of bundled clothing wrapping around flesh in what was supposed to be a warm embrace. A whir of wind broke an otherwise silent world, howling into his ears secrets that were better off unheard. Boots crunched away at compacted snow, leaving behind a trail of footprints that would be buried within minutes. He continued to trek forward, quietly huffing clouds of perspiration as legs burned from the effort of drudging through deceptive footing.

The cold chipped away at the sharpness of his thoughts, only allowing for basic instincts of survival to well up inside as a driving force toward safety and shelter. A flurry of white limited vision to mere feet ahead at moments before settling down to reveal nothing but the interminable distance to trees. Whispers from the wind pierced him, alluding to the danger that trailed miles behind. He had to make it to the tree line before they caught up, there was no time to spare as the distance closed between them and his strength diminished further.

After what seemed an eternity he collapsed, frostbite creeping up his fingers and toes toward vital organs. He closed his eyes, body pressing into the snow that began to smother him. This was it. This was where he would lie in wait for the death that approached. No one would know until Winter broke into Spring, children stumbling upon a preserved corpse soon to melt and rot in the forgotten warmth of the sun.

Daily Writers Prompt: Personification Short Story Afterword | Pessimist Poetry

What did you think of this week’s daily writers prompt about my earliest memory? Let me know in the comments below!

If you liked this week’s daily writers prompt, be sure to check out the one from last week!