Saturday, May 26, 2012

Timed Writing: 5/26/2012


Time: 10 minutes
Prompt: "... walked those snow-covered hills under the stars... with a murder..."
Source: 1 x 4 x 2 + 2 x 5 + 4 = 22 = The Complete Father Brown by G.K. Chesterton

Glacier-covered peaks tower before me, while behind flows the river -- a winter-swollen monster fighting with the crusts of ice that invade from its edges and threaten to cover and entomb. Between mountains and water are planes and hills. I stand at the foot of a rise, beyond which are a hundred more -- some higher than this and others obscured. All are blanketed in white, unmolested by foot or tire or hoof since last night's fall.

I've never looked on these hills before, but I have seen others like them, in could-be other world. I walked those snow-covered hills under the stars, under the moon, and under the sun and clouds. I was not alone then. I traveled with a friend -- a brother, perhaps. A murderer.

Today I come for recreation and recuperation and reconciliation. I revel in loneliness. Solitude in the beauty of frozen nature, its cold air tearing at my throat and its silence scratching in my ears, is supposed to cure the feelings of impotence and dread inspired by countless weeks of monotonous and meaningless tasks performed in the sun-deprived core of an unremarked urban edifice. My home: a cubicle in the heart (or the left kidney or the epididymis) of the commercial center of a might-as-well-be nameless metropolis. Today I am not at home.


(about my timed writing exercises)


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