Winter's Promise
CopyRight 1998 Ginger Johnson
All Rights Reserved
Winter's wind beckons to her, reaching for her. Heart broken and empty, she listens to its call. Promising sleep . . . promising comfort. . .
Behind her, the door of the lone cabin closes. Memory of the warmth of the dancing flames slips away. Fresh fallen snow crunches beneath bare feet. Ice seeps into her system, chilling the heated liquid within her veins.
Mists swirl around her figure, mingling with the diaphanous folds of her viridian gown. Cloudy fingers encircle her. The thick haze restrains the beseeching moon. Hiding her from its protection.
Eyes closed, she follows the tendrils caressing her cheeks. Deeper into the forest, her name on winter's breath. Promising rest . . . Promising solace . . .
Mistrals dance about her, encouraging her to forget. Enticing her to shake the shackles of her world and enter into the next. Promising repose . . . Promising assuagement . . .
Winter's zephyr serenades her. Alluring her into the bosom of darkness. A beacon breaks through the achromatic film. His voice comes promising quiescence . . . promising tranquility . . .
Eagerly she flees to the arms of the one she loves.
* * *
"Officer, she came from out of the trees. Oh God, I didn't have time to stop." A shaken voice tumbles on the breeze. The grumbling of a diesel engine shatters the stillness of the mountain air.