Flowers of death, by: Faiz Ghazi

The harsh northern winds when they do not blow, dry fingers with rough texture, advance hurriedly regardless of inanimate objects, humans, or plants, imprint the kiss of frost on the mouth of whoever he encounters, turning him into a cold ice sculpture. And so is death, it comes with a cold, lightning strike that snatches the flame of the soul, leaving the body a cold candle in the darkness of life. It was one question that constantly troubled him, why did they kill her? And who informed him of their killing, what was their goal and purpose? Was he a friend or an enemy, and are there still friends in this world! What does that mysterious ghost seek from him? He tried to analyze the situation dozens of times, made hypotheses, and attempted to trace the source of the messages, but his efforts did not lead him to a conclusion.