It's a particularly cold and gloomy February morning. I guess it's because of what kind of day it is.
I set the bouquet of flowers on the last gravestone and send a short prayer. I'm not particular a religious person, but it's days like this that I make an exception.
Eighty-six gravestones all with the Winter name on them. My cousins. My aunts. My uncles. My parents. Everyone lies here resting while I'm the only one still alive.
Sometimes I wonder why me. Why was I the one chosen to stay alive? Why couldn't some of them manage to escape? Was it because of my fate that the universe needed me to live? Am I only alive just because I was chosen as the Winter Vessel? These questions would haunt me sometimes when I go to sleep.
