This is somewhat part of a series of stories I'm writing. There are 
differences between what was written here as a descriptive paragraph 
and to what actually happened at this point in my story. ...When this 
particular part in the story was written, I'm not sure, unfortunately. 
Some time in 2006.


That winter evening was like walking into an icebox. It was so 
freezing, that as Torrin spoke or even breathed, a soft cloud would 
appear in front of his face. Although it was the coldest day of the 
winter season that year, there had not been one snow flake so far, 
which was odd, considering where Torrin lived. His hometown, Runawynd, 
was peaceful and quiet. As a matter of fact, it was so isolated, that a 
ghost town looked more popular. Barely any sounds were heard; just the 
clacking of tree branches knocking against each other, the sound of the 
wind moving through the air, and Torrin’s heavy boots walking on the 
cobblestone pathway. There was an absolutely frigid breeze that would 
come and leave now and then, which seemed to bite Torrin hard in the 
face. The young man knew for sure his ears were red, due to the fact 
that they felt numb along with the rest of his face. Strolling further 
in his hometown, he passed many closed shops and dark windows. However, 
not all was dark. Runawynd was very festive in the Christmas spirit. 
Most of the trees, which were all bear of leaves to cover them, were 
strung with many different kinds of brightly colored Christmas lights, 
along with almost all houses and shops he passed. On every door, there 
was a wreath. The street light bulbs were also changed to a pattern of 
red and green. Torrin’s eyes moved to the grey sky that had gone black 
at an early hour. The full moon looked enchanting, and it let out an 
eerie snow-white glow around it. Torrin’s frozen lips smiled as he 
whispered, "Winter is the most inspiring of all seasons." He then 
continued to walk further to the agreed upon rendezvous point.