"This is a Spill, This is a Spell" eBook Edit

Sample of edited work, written by Crystal M. Escabi. Here work can be purchased here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZB23WLV

We are back where we ended: a couple of weeks before Christmas. A whole year has gone by, and I have lost and regained you all within the same time. December never fails to go and come again and so that when the bare trees wither under its snow, I wonder too if I will be left out in the cold so barren and hungry.

On TV are the classic holiday flicks and the house smells of mulled wine and fir. Though this winter, I find my nights are spent wrapped in wool blankets, my skin never fails to paint itself with goosebumps. I awake in anticipation that any day now Santa will decide to retrieve you from under the tree.

When homes are gearing up for the season of giving and couples walking through Brooklyn Bridge Park come together and embrace the warmth of their bodies, I grown mistrustful of December. July and August have always had their way with us. They provided fuel for our fire and kept our flames strong, while sweet eats in October and November, candies and pumpkin pies, kept us full.

Now the city prepares to go into deep slumber, and I fear that your heart will sleep too; and like Goddess Persephone, I would be lost in the underworld forever. I ask that this winter hold us together even when its fingers are already frigid. Even when holding on becomes painful. Even if holding on is all that is left for us to do to not get swept up in December’s heartless blizzard.

And in case this is it, and December fails to deliver you again, may my heart strengthen to withstand the cold without you. May it hold me over till Spring—till May’s flowers bloom and I can breathe again anew. May this season be the last time that I hesitate at the close of November.

May I look forward to meeting December, someday, once again.