LEADERS - not followers

Saturday, May 7, 2011

SEASON

For Writers Island #19 - Season
Link


CHILL

Her appearance was totally unexpected and her surroundings, though vaguely familiar were at the same time unusual. Instead of her customary preference to soft pastel shades, she wore a long, black cape, buttoned to the neck. The fur trimmed hood, thrown casually over her head, was speckled with delicate, white flecks of snow, fallen freshly from above. A trail of dark footprints in the icing sugar path behind her, led back to a point, where I could just make out slender tree trunks, rising and bowing to form a canopy of oversized leaves, enclosing the pathway like a tunnel. They faded out of vision in the descending gloom as a fresh fall of fine snow began.

As she opened her mouth to speak, an icy blast of air whipped her words away, whistling through the trees, and bringing with it a further, heavier fall of snow. A whirling wall of whiteness obscured the entire scene.

I awoke, shivering, disorientated and confused.

Initially, I attributed the chill I felt to the dream and my sudden return to consciousness. But as the chill continued to bite, I realised that I was experiencing something I’d not felt these past three years; cold. Not the artificial attempts of air conditioners, but the bone gnawing grip of winter.

“I’m still asleep.” I said out loud, immediately realising I wasn’t. It was almost light, so I sat up to take a look out of the window and try to make some sense of my dream. Outside, a thick blanket of fog, restricted vision to a few yards and an eerie silence added to my confusion. I inhaled a deep breath, which felt sharp as the cold hit the back of my throat. As I exhaled, a jet of steam shot from my mouth. For a fleeting moment, I imagined I was back in England and lightning flashes of memory reminded me of those bleak winter days, when it never quite seemed to get fully light.