#83 Beacon

by Erin Ward

There it is again, I thought. A bit of red with maybe some blue, barely visible through the sheets of snow that dropped all around me, their quiet, unrelenting fall deceptively serene. I trudged on deftly to escape the suffocating feeling that were I to stop, the snow would swallow me whole, my body becoming but another bump on the wide landscape. I clung to that occasional flash of colour like a life raft in the white abyss, walking ever in its direction. I did not know whether it was organic or man-made, whether it held my salvation or only my total despair, but it was all I had.

There, again. Red and blue with maybe a little black. The wind had begun to pick up now. I could not tell if the colours were getting any closer but I could detect more texture; a raised patch here, tiny bumps along there, a swirling in the center. I realized that it was beautiful, not so much because of the bumps and colours, but because it had come to represent my life. How odd that I should come to notice the beauty of my life here, in this most bleak and desolate of all landscapes. The wind howled now, long and slow.

It was when I discovered that the marvelous colours and textures remained before me even when my eyes were closed that I lay down, letting them swirl up around me like tiny colourful lights, and surrendered to the snow.

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1 comment:

Laura Howe said...

Great imagery, I'm trudging through the snow with your character, then realizing what she's walking towards is within her.