That guy: I promised you the next one would be real writing!

The crispness burns my lungs. Every breath stings, with the brink intensity surrounding me. Permeating me. I am invincible. Stripped away of my clothes, my surroundings, the air cannot touch me. The beauty lifts me gently, passionately, it caresses me higher, and higher. The stark white earth melts, indistinguishable from the clouds, and the flurries, and everything else. I could try as hard as I wanted, and nothing would become clearer, but I don’t. I’m quite content, sitting here, absolved into the peace.







Without a warning, I drop. The bottom meets me halfway. The swirling calm is ripped away. My legs buckle, break on the filthy ground, and reality is forced back upon me, rending my soul from the shelter imposed by my mind. I struggle to my feet. My meditation broken, the cold seeps in. What was a duvet of bliss strikes furiously, all around me, biting, tearing, snarling. I am weak. The shivering starts instantly; beaten by the elements, I shake.

Grasping a hold of instinct, I seek the source of this disturbance. It dawns on me. The phone in my pocket is vibrating. All the rest and calm that my journey had provided is shaken out of me by that tiny………… little…………. Annoyance. Business as usual. I stuff a jumpy hand in, and pull out the phone, bringing it to my ear, not even caring to discover who is calling. No rest for the weary.

But when I answer, monotone, hateful, the voice is warm, and comforting, however unexpected. I can still feel the cold, but I notice my hands, along with the rest of my body has stopped vibrating. A familiar scent crosses the air. I look, expecting to see her walking towards me, standing nearby, phone in hand, but all I see is slush, grease, dirt, haze. The filth consumes me, becomes me. The shivering returns, harsher, and I’m forced to the ground. That which had just held so much comfort grinds itself against me. The frigidity causes my skin to split, to peel. I am stripped again, but it is no longer peace. No, that has passed. The ground grabs me, flays me. As I lose consciousness, mingled with the burning, stinging sleet, I can feel one thing above them all.


Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz……………………………………………


I turn over in my bed. Squinting, I can barely make out the clock. 11:24. 36 whole minutes of sleep. I sit up and lean into the corner. I pull a blanket over myself, breathing deeply, over and over. I breathe to calm, breathe to steady, breathe to assure myself that I still can. Slowly, my body realizes what my mind did; I’m ok. But through the dim, and through the dark, a tiny light blinks in and out. I venture forward, as far as I can without leaving the safety of the sheets, and flounder, grasping. My hands close around the light, and draw it towards me. I peel my fingers off my palm, and as my hand unfolds, the phone becomes recognizable. The tiny screen is lit, and as I lean in to read, a chill fills the room. The sheets offer no resistance to their new master.

“One missed call.”

I fling the phone with all the strength I have left. None. It flops down, inches away , with that damned screen still blinking its’ light. I pause. Sleep won’t come to me. I have nothing better to do. But that little voice screams at me.

Don’t pick it up! Just leave it there!

My hand moves against my will, snaking forward. I can’t stop it. The screen flips open, and it draws close enough to be read.

“One missed call.”

My thumb climbs over the keypad, and rests on the ‘View’ button. It slowly, gently, deliberately, applies pressure, and the screen changes.