30th October 2017

Being There Creative Writing

You find yourself frozen to the spot, locked with your back to the ground, face to the warm orange glow of the setting sun. As you lie, the fallen around you remain petrified in place as others crash down around them. As the northern winds begins to fly, those yet to come to rest are sent into a flurry, an  unstoppable whirlwind of chaos and destruction. You watch in awe as in just a few brief moments, those you’ve been watching over for what can only be describes as eons are whisked away as if they were nothing more than another snowflake in the breeze. You use the last of your waning power to stand, and as you do, you see just how many have fallen around you. The ground is blanketed in them for miles, and as you begin to wander, the piles continue to grow around you. You must escape, before the fallen cause your fall.

The fallen continue to pile onto one another, awaiting another blast of wind to send them in their final journey into the great beyond. All around you, you hear nothing but the frozen winds, howling for you to leave, you feel nothing but the icy touch of the fallen as they are whisked around you, you see nothing but the endless vale of white emptiness. The tangerine glow of the evening sun gives way to the omnipresent darkness of the night sky, and the full moon casts a calming glow over you and your surroundings, bringing a solemn silence to the restless. As the stars begin to appear, the deathly cold blasts of wind catch more of the resting, sending them higher, towards the dark abyss of nothing but stars, planets and unexplored potential.

From within the blackened expanse, a dark slender figure emerges, stretching as far into the sky as the stars. In their hands are beds for the fallen, coming to rest high above you, and yet, the cold winds continue to further their journeys. The winds begins to clear your surroundings, revealing more dark, slender figures, all comforting the fallen until the winds take them to a better place. You continue to meander through the white plains in search of a way out, the figures watching your every movement. They reach as high as you can see far, their peaks unreachable, even by the infinite winds, and they rest undisturbed, waiting for their time to come crashing down. Walking past they, you feel their icy gazes watch your every move, judging you as they once judged the fallen Eventually, you find a single figure, alone in a wide opening. There are more of the fallen at its base, and they seem to appearing. You come to rest under the figures gaze, laying down, finally surrendering to the figure and its accomplices. A solemn warmth glides over you, the fallen begin to rise, and the snow-blanketed frozen forest, untouched by humanity until now, until you, comes to life once more.

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