| | The Lake
The blackness of the lake’s water confirmed its depth—a bottomless abyss so cold it could barely sustain life. The razor-thin horizon of the ominous steel-blue sky gently pressed against the surface of the lake. Along its shores nothing stirred save an occasional gust of raw wind that rattled the autumn leaves and threw them violently into a muddied palette of orange and crimson on the ground. Cattails and bulrushes stabbed out of the marshy sponge-land adjoined to the lake’s still depths. As silent as the abyss seemed to be, its soggy surge was crafty, relentlessly inching inland, slowly invading the sand and soil. Slender whips of the overhanging willow slapped at the marauding water in a bid to protect its turf. A solitary hill hunkered in the east and stood guard over the lake, seeing all, but saying nothing. Monochrome clouds, heavy with rain, floated near the hilltop like wounded zeppelins, as slivers of lightning infused the sky with light, trying to outrun the chasing thunder. Atop the tallest of the pines sat a crow, its head seemingly jointless as it swiveled robotically near 360 degrees. From its perch it could see the forgotten dock barely afloat near the lake’s furthest shore. Rickety from years spent alone—its cottage companion long vanished, a victim of a single, merciless bolt from the quiver of Thor. Only the stony foundation remained—the crow’s last reminder that it had once shared the lake with others. Remnants of a trail wound its way from the foundation to a patch of weedy brambles--threshold to the impenetrable forest beyond. And what lay beyond remained beyond, held in check by timber centurions, the moroseness of the lake forever sealed. |
| | Posted 9/28/2007 8:37 PM - 5 comments
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