There’s something about the way the white hare dances in the snow covered field in the middle of the night. She dances with boundless energy under the moon. There’s joy in that dance that eases the worries and fears of deep winter; the fears of the cold, the scarcity of food, and the predator that hunts.
If you’re lucky enough to see her dance in the light of a full winter moon, freeze! Don’t move; don’t scare her away. Watch closely as she dances to honour winter and remind the world that spring is coming.
You can’t have a “there always was” and a “there might have been” and a “it’s this way”. They can’t coexist in the past or work for the present. You need a “there has been” and a “there will be”. Plan the history for the future and the past will write itself.
The kids were fearless; swimming out to the bouys and diving down to touch the cement pad that held them afloat. They stayed down as long as the could, eyes open underwater, straining to see something, anything in the murky water. Sometimes they were especially brave and swam over to the drop off, touching the plateau where the lake bed took a sharp plunge down hundreds of feet, always with eyes wide open, trying to see far off in the gloom. There were plenty of fish in the lake after all.
The kids were brave, but the trips were quick; after all, there was supposed to be a swift undercurrent at this part of the lake, ready to drag unwary swimmers off to the depths.
I liked watching them, knowing they couldn’t see me, my sharp teeth wide, wide, wide in a grin. Brave kids. Fearless kids. And small, these kids. Lucky for them, they were barely a mouthful.
Today’s story is fully inspired by my childhood, swimming in the Okanagan Lake at the beach by the bridge, hunting for the Ogopogo.
It’s also why I’m afraid of deep water to this day.
Do you ever feel like you’re being watched? (you are)
As if, should you turn around fast enough, you’d catch the watcher? (bad idea)
Do you feel frozen in spot at times because to move would draw attention to you and the last thing you want would be to be noticed? (they will notice)
Do you laugh to yourself after you’ve finally forced yourself to move because you think you’ve scared yourself for no reason? (there was a reason)
Do you feel these instances of watchfulness or terror are happening more often? (they are)
Congratulations! You’ve been selected as our next meal. (see you soon)
“Welcome to the preliminary processing section. We’re sure you’re all very excited to be here, after all, this is the first stage in selecting your life designation. In the first area, you are evaluated for your suitability towards certain lifestyles; after all, not everyone has the temperament or temerity for all the choices offered through our institution. After initial processing, you’ll proceed along with others who meet the same criteria to the familial prototype selection section, and from there, on to the birthing preparation room. From there, you’ll be sent along to your begin new life designation.”
“Congratulations on your imminent new life journey. I’m sure you’ll be perfect in your new designations. After all, it’s what we do best.”
After the explosions, they say the world became quiet. Communications ceased, the power was out, transportation came to a standstill. They say the world became quiet.
But they were wrong.
Before it became quiet, first there was the confusion. The search for missing people. The screams of pain. The cries of the lost.
Then the cold came. The bitter, freezing temperatures that froze the world. Humans tried but could not adapt and began to die. A few at first, but as the world became colder and darker, fuel became more scarce, food ran out, and humans died.
The world became silent.
we’re all just fairy tales
and make believe dreams
The sun shone overhead, an impossibly bright white spot bracketed by sun dogs, in a crisp and bitter blue sky. The sunlight glittered on the snow so bright it blinded if looked upon too long. It was so cold the air froze eyelashes and, if one took to careless a breathe in, painfully froze the hairs in ones nose.
The child stood at the top of the hill and looked down, a string clenched in his mittened hand. It was the perfect day to go tobogganing.
The man stood in the light waiting, unsure of what he was waiting for, but sure that something was coming. He was patient, for he was also sure that to demand an appearance would only serve to lengthen his stay in the light. The man stood facing forward, although how he knew which direction was front or back was a mystery to him, not turning his head left nor right, his eyes focused on a point in the distance.
The man thought he was wise.
He thought he was patient.
The man was a fool.
Had he only looked to his left, he would have seen the exit.
1… 2… 3…
The children run. Half run for the joy of the game; the others, the smart ones, ran out of terror.
4… 5… 6…
The children ran and hid. Some hid in obvious spots, behind a tree, in a bush. Others ran further, looking for deeper, harder to reach spots that they could see the path from.
7… 8… 9…
The children are hidden. Some giggle because they think they’re clever to find such good spots. Others stifle sobs because they know there are no good spots.
10… ready or not, here I come!
And I am so very hungry.