The day matched my mood..gray, quiet, solitary. I just wanted to stand and listen to the silence of the falling snow and breathe the cold biting air. I needed it to revive my spirit.
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November 12, 2009
Thursdays The: Featured Post Winner
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The day matched my mood..gray, quiet, solitary. I just wanted to stand and listen to the silence of the falling snow and breathe the cold biting air. I needed it to revive my spirit.
Visit Dan to see more inspiring photos like this.
The day matched my mood..gray, quiet, solitary. I just wanted to stand and listen to the silence of the falling snow and breathe the cold biting air. I needed it to revive my spirit.
Visit Dan to see more inspiring photos like this.
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The day matched my mood..gray, quiet, solitary. I just wanted to stand and listen to the silence of the falling snow and breathe the cold biting air. I needed it to revive my spirit.
The snow sleeted down, obscuring the track and the outbuildings. Roy staggered on, wheezing deeply. He was almost there. He had come five miles from Amberley Hall. It had been clear but cloudy when he set out to tell Miss Jane about her mother. The last horses had been stolen by Rebs yesterday. He had thought he could make it to Miss Jane's before the storm. He stumbled up the porch steps and pounded on the door.
The snow coated everything in white. Each little branch had its own layer of ice crystals - like the tree itself was putting on a winter coat. Although the wet mush was still falling from the sky, drenching my hair, I stood in the driveway studying the tree. I think perhaps I was only stalling. After all, this was the first time I was coming back to this house in... well... so many years.
I stood, letting my body freeze in place under the wet snowfall. It was fine, I'd rather freeze myself to this place and never move. How had I gotten myself this close anyway?
The tree was indeed fascinating. I followed the branches with my eyes as they got thinner and thinner and onto the smaller twigs at the end. I wondered how thick that white coat could get on that little stick-like twig. As I sat contemplating how heavy that amount of snow would be that piled up on the thinnest twig on the branch, I heard the screen door squeak and somehow my body froze even more than it had been before. I hadn't thought that would be possible, yet it did indeed and my blood ran colder still.
"Eve! What are you doing out there?! Come in this instant, you'll catch your death!"
It was Granny's voice I heard from the porch. Only Granny, with the sound of worry clinging to every one of her words, could bring me to turn my body around to face the porch of my childhood.
When my eyes met her face, I saw the recognition cross her features and her eyes welled up in tears.
"Abby." I saw her mouth, yet no sound escaped. Then from behind her, my Aunt Mae came to the door to take a hold of her arm and bring her back to the warmth. She stopped to follow Granny's gaze, and then it was over. She saw me.
This was it. I wasn't escaping it now. I had to trudge forward through the snow. I didn't know what to say. All the time that had past since I'd called them, even written; I couldn't count the years.
"Granny, I..." I managed to squeak but stopped. Another silhouetted figure was standing inside the door behind my aunt. It could only be my father. I was silent.
Granny and Aunt Mae knew I had seen him. For a moment everyone stood in awkward silence. Then Aunt Mae fidgeted a bit and came forward to me, arms outstretched. "Do come in, dear, it's so cold."
So I did.
---it's getting too long, my dears- i apologize! thanks for the wonderful prompt... i'll continue elsewhere. :)
The snow fell heavily that day, adding to Alison's grief. she drove away from the house and instead of glancing in the rear view mirror to see tire tracks appear in the snow, and the old house fade into darkness, she stared straight ahead, nearly blinded from the tears she shed.
The colours have been washed away. The world stands revealed in monochroms.
The purity of the air, washed clean of pollutants, begs to be breathed in.
The crispness underfoot speaks of shattered secrets laid bare.
Call in for a chat with me! Christine's Chatter is at :-
http://cadugdale.blogspot.com
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