The Dreary Day In January by: J.L.

Evol
 It was a dreary day in January; all of the green had left for a while; leaving behind a

bareness that resembled death. ..

There I sat, alone on a bench, fumbling with my flawed fingers-one, two, and three. I

was enchanted by all the different motions they made; bending and flexing, cracking and

stressing were my aging hands. Still, I sat, listening to the leaves as they fought with the wind

as they fell free. The stillness of the trees began to worry me, then I noticed a twitch, and it

made a discreet sound above me.

“Creeeak”, a faint noise came from above. “Are these branches moving?” I asked, raising

my brow. “Yes, they move… with the breath of the wind”, said a falling leaf, whispering to me

softly.

“We sleep beneath this dormant shell”, moaned a low branch that was too small to see.

“How much longer will all of you sleep, can you tell?” I asked in the trembling flurry. “Until

the birds come back to nest for a spell”, squeaked a high branch.

I looked, but I could not see the light of day or night above me. Hundreds of naked

branches were huddled together closely; they looked like frail fingers that met with others to

form a “cradle”- the kind children make with their hands and string. I wandered into the thick of

the woods. I walked a little, and then I stopped, frozen in winter. The light hues of the grey

scenery became darker and darker as I stood pressing my left foot into the earth beneath my sole.

I pondered going further into the darkness if all was well. What will become of me, I wondered.

“What should I do”? I asked myself.

Suddenly, I heard nothing but my own breath. Then a voice not of my own, but sounding

like mine echoed in a delayed reply, “…What should you do”? The resonance of the haunting
voice played over and over in my head, sounding more distant each time. It greatly implemented

my trouble, for its intrigue was more than subtle. I had not moment before another voice, still

not of my own, again alike but different from the first, hollered in a childish blurt, “Bet you can’t

find her”!

Alarmed but fixed in my solid state, I proceeded to look around me and noticed that the

hour was rather late. Darkness veiled his black cloak upon the thick so much I couldn’t even see

the pale skin of my hand waving in front to guide me. Suddenly I heard my watch begin to tick.

“No- time”, “No- time” is how it sounded, “No-time”, “No-time” each chime was weaker than

the first. Out of the black, the North wind came in a quick burst. “It surely is a cold winter”-I

thought -“indeed the worst”. The wind pushed and pulled me further down the darkened path,

which I could not see. It thrust its frigid breath upon the hands of the trees, breaking their

weakened fingers- snapped one, two, and three. “Please, do not worry for them… they’ll grow

back in the spring”, said the wind softly to me. The path began to take its proper shape; I could

see there was substance beyond all that was black. I wanted to “find her”-there was no turning

back. I continued on the narrowed path, one foot in front of the other, each step beginning with

my right foot.