The Four Seasons Chapter Seven ~ Winter's Spiteful Arrival

Following Winter’s Premature Arrival and Grace of Summer and Autumn seeing her off, Winter now returns, intent on revenge … and we have the first hint that Winter is the dominant Season … of which more, later …

The Four Seasons

Part VIII

Blackpool

La Fontana Italian Restaurant

7 January 2010

In her iced-viced hold

her calling card,

Winter rejoiced in the chaos

wrought,

feeding upon the Wing

leaving the torsos

feathers, tendrils

in her wake

Rain would freeze

then, with precision,

Cruel winds she blows

from the Steppes of Russia

in a rearguard action

She lays a Muscovite

carpet of whiteness

leaving little ones gaping,

jumping for joy,

then tumbling and crying,

rubbing it better,

then getting up for more.

A million snowmen

and pyjama-ed little children,

in a million imaginations with

snowmen in the skies.

*

Winter smiles

a cruel and icy stare,

… a pause …

snow on ice and rain …

She lays a layer, third,

a deathly carpet now,

watches, waits,

true sniper style

in a high rise building

picking off her targets

when they least expect

their ending.

Crash, bang, thwack,

Smash, thud, crack.

Crumpled wings

and bashed-up bonnets …

It’s your fault!

What do you mean you silly cow?

You were going too fast

and came out of a side street!

No! I braked. I couldn’t stop!

Metal on metal

tail-lights splintering

as car number three

joins the melee.

Oh fokking hell!

Broken backs

And for good measure,

there must surely be a death or two!

*

Night falls

Winter recalls

19 Warton Street

Grace and Autumn

and that stupid lawyer

locking her in …

‘premature’ be damned!

Now I’m back!

Icy fingers strumm

her gartered thigh

It’s play-time!

*

She turns her mind

to cold and heater-less

old-age-pensioner terraces,

searching for darkened bedrooms,

especially her desire!

Ah! Is that a night light flickering?

… the Warton Streets

… the Windsor Streets

… all are the same!

Her icy entrance down the chimney

another, through the tiniest gap

in the rattling window frame

Another unsuspecting household

Passing swiftly across the bed

and through the icy sheets,

Winter squeezes the tiny flame of life

with fingered ice

as another life slips beneath the sheet

and a soul departs the bed

*

She clasps Her hands

in priestly fashion,

victorious

Oh! I must watch the Finale

Now where is that fool?

Oh, yes! Park Street

I recall.

The following morning

She visits tiny solicitors’ offices

noting their grey solemnity with

genuine satisfaction.

Another case,

another death,

another probate
 …

and hears with glee that man’s voice

Dam it!

I have the will here ready

for execution.

Sorry Ken, I had her booked in

for Thursday.

Thanks Karen.

It can’t be helped.

Winter caught us out this week

I’ll call the family back.

The boss is waiting for me in the boardroom.

I don’t know.

The seventh in two days. . . !


Open the file please for Marjorie.

He pauses, reflects, momentarily

a sense of defeat …

Such a lovely lady.

Winter giggles

You may have missed executing the Will

but I went one better and executed the Life!

Winter hangs around

Goodness, it’s cold in this room this morning!

And scores a victory as the

Ken makes that fateful call … …

A shocked, stunned, quavering voice

on the end of his latest iPhone,

an ‘Elder Grandson’ wondering how

to break the news to Mum… …

Ken collects his notes

his coffee

and heads downstairs

… the boardroom light already on

the boss is waiting …

*

Winter reigns supreme.

Defiant.

Gleeful.

She rebukes the Sun

flashing Her incandescent eyes.

Go on my love

Entice them out!

I dare you!!

Let the stalactites hang down

like discarded party dresses,

Let the stalagmites grow.

Let icicles drip from rafters

and watch my quarry

head over heels,

go the garden path,

head-first!

Ten down on one spot

in one hour in Kirkham town centre!

They never learn!

These silly, silly people!!

Steep gradients, impassable

Town councillors,

Bookshop owners and solicitors,

Tradesmen and business-people

marshalling their forces

and dividing the grit …

and little old ladies,

for what it’s worth,

sprinkling their precious table salt

on doorsteps …

that wartime feeling

of camaderie …

‘we’re in this together’

such comments lost upon a

generation whose only concern

is their warm fat bums, play stations

and the yearned for day off school …

Dad! This bloody heated-seat

is still not heating up!

Oh shut up! For Christ’s sake.

And mind your language!

Think what your

brother’s going through!!

That’s blasphemy.

I’m telling mum;

and at least it’s bloody sunny in Afghanistan!

And dad just gives up,

goes silent

and is glad when roly-poly-pudding-n-pie

finally vacates at the college gates.

*

Winter sweeps across the south coast,

then turns again north …

Seize the rail lines

banish buses

derail trains

close down airports

Oh yes – what fun this is

What devastation I bring!

Autumn may flash her

bright red hair

and catch the embrace of Grace

but I'M The ONE

who has the last laugh!

I'M The ONE

who wreaks havoc

I’M The ONE

who hides behind that idiotic phrase

‘an act of god.’

*

A silly phrase, you say,

…an act of GOD?

Yes, I’M Winter.

Yes indeed you are.

And I AM The Angel of The LORD!

Do you dare to question Me?

Do you not realise To Whom I report?

Have you not forgotten that earlier occasion

when, from the confines of a boat,

HE stood and rebuked you, and, it is reported,

that the winds and the rains were quieted

for They knew WHO It Was

WHO addressed Them?!

I carry that Authority.

It is HE To WHOM I answer.

You would do well to remember!

By all means speak

but remember too

you are

but the Elements

cast to do the bidding

of those He placed

in Spiritual Authority.

So continue, I pray,

for I have homes to visit

peace and comfort

to deliver this night

… and We …

forbid any of you

to cast aside our work.

Yes my lord.

But I am Winter

I am glacial

I close down piers

I make them lethal.

I sink a ship

I down an aircraft

I freeze the points

and render networks useless

I even go deep beneath the seabed,

my new terrain,

and brake asunder

those arrogant tunnels

I go away when I decree,

and not before.

… an icy cackle …

Haha …

I caught them out

when they least expected!

They thought I’d retreated

far to the Northern Lights

but I rounded on them

greeting early morning

in Blackpool Centre

all tightless, white

gargantuan thighs

or stickleback spindly legs;

silly youths with

barely none

or no T shirt on

in minus four

and freezing pecs!

Drunken girlfriends

flaunting their knickers

like holiday bunting,

shouting at Taxis

waving shoes in the air

to hail a driver,

then slamming down

slipping and slithering around

on my wall-to-wall

lethal-fitted-carpet

lain not hours before

as they lost the plot

on the nightclub dance floor!

***

1 February 2021
All Rights Reserved

© Kenneth Thomas Webb 2022