Fable

The little girl sat on the bus. The bus had pulled over, it was humming still on the bus stop. The girl watched the people outside. It was cold and she pressed her nose tight against the window, the bus window was covered in mist. There was a cemetery behind the bus stop, but none of the people outside payed any attention to the graves.

The girl watched the cold, as it was snaking its way across the cemetery, gently whirring around the tombstones. The cold was getting closer to the people standing on the bus stop. This was what the cold did. It fed on people. All through the long winter people would have to inhale the cold, and with every breath the cold would eat their souls away, little by little. It was always there, in the air and in the ground. People would get worn out, thin - almost like ghosts. Some people got better during the short flash of summer, they had enough strength left to heal their souls, but many others were just slowly worn off.

The girl on the bus knew this - she was the only one who could see the cold and the cold couldn't touch her. Then the bus stopped humming and with a low rumble continued its long journey through the frozen city.