(Copyright HRC, July 2000)
For A Winters Night….
It was bitterly cold. A biting wind whipped up splintering whirls of tiny snowflakes that danced across the whitened landscape. A tree appeared to shiver as each gust of ice-laden wind wrapped itself around the bare branches. The barren land, subdued by a mystifying moonlight, held open it’s bleak hand to welcome home the winter. A wolf howled in the echo of the snow capped mountains – a reply came from across the frozen ridge. The haunting noise tossed around on top of the chill breeze, carrying it, until it became lost amongst the dark chorus of the night.
Further into the gloom, tiny creatures began to stir. A mouse pushed the snow away from its face as it peered out bravely into the cold darkness. It paused and sniffed the air – immediately plunging back deep into the snow as an owl swooped low to claw its prey. Disturbed in its flight by the unfamiliar sound of footsteps the owl disappeared into the moonlight whence it came.
The swirling snow began to sting his face. He pulled his coat tightly around his waist, tipped his collar up, his hat down and continued to plough on through the unrelenting bleakness that enveloped him with every step. He was beginning to falter, his line of footsteps following the path of the night - the coldness piercing through to his soul. As he left the forest behind him, the snow deepened. The trees behind him cried out with the darkness that enveloped them, the light of the moon, no longer obscured by the forest, now able to guide him to the blinding snowfall across the ridge.
Everything was still. The deafening silence catching his attention made him stop and survey his surroundings. Snowflakes danced in front of him as the wind blew tiny whirlwinds of ice crystals around the motionless figure. The moonlight, reflected against the snow, brought a charmed light to the landscape. Calmness surrounded him. In the distance he could see an end to his journey. His body, rigid with cold did not want to continue – he knew he had to keep going. Forcing his feet to move, and denying the cold pain that ran the length of his body, he moved forward. Step by step his journey was coming to an end.
He blinked gently and opened his eyes, to be greeted by the glaring intensity of the sun. The bleak night had been killed by the daylight – voices – he could hear voices. So close to the end of his nightmare – he had stumbled – the crippling winters nights claiming him for itself. His soul was strong and he managed to cling on, visualising the distant scene that greeted him when he had reached the top of the ridge. The voices moved closer – even close still – at last, the nightmare journey was over….