A Distant Memory
A distant memory. One that could never be forgotten. She was dressed in thin garments on a frozen winter morning. The sky was of an abnormal depth, even for such menacing times. Clouds of fog moved towards her, enveloping her frail ankles in their icy wrath. The wind slapped her flushed cheeks, pushing her towards the warmth of shelter. She could see the faint silhouette of the cottage at the bottom of the hill but the overwhelming shadows of the early morning quiet made her wonder if it was just in her mind. She had been storming through the tilting grass that felt rough and dry against her bare legs. The wet earth soothed her blistered feet. Bruised and bleeding she collapsed in the middle of a field of dying peonies. But only when the pain felt numb and she could feel herself slipping away did she see that image coming closer. She grasped onto it but it slid between her fingers and she reached for it, desperation in her uncoloured eyes. It drifted away and her fingers stayed crisped, reaching, but never touching that distant memory.