A White Death

A boy, somewhere in his late teens and with brown reddish hair, lies motionless on the ground. His eyes are closed and his mouth is only slightly open, his knees drawn up to his belly fetal-like. His hands also rest there, firmly clutched around the waist. Underneath the belly is a pool of blood, slowly drying on the frozen ground.

He has been lying there for a while, white snowflakes slowly falling down on his lifeless body. His soft, rounded cheeks and slim, boyish build give him a pleasing appearance even now, perhaps even more so than at any point in life. For this climate he seems awfully underdressed, with only a light black shirt and tight blue jeans that press sensually against his curves.

The sight of the boy seems oddly fitting to this wintery landscape, his body resting on a dirt road that curves through the snow-covered pine forest. The blood on the ground gives a suiting contrast to the surrounding white and brown shades, the peaceful expression on his face fitting perfectly into the slow descent of the snowflakes.

His mouth is tilted in a small smile, as if he was dreaming of something pleasant. He looks very much at peace here.

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