apparently, this seems to be the only way of life: coming and going. an infinite series of hellos and goodbyes. a long night’s walk through neverending fields of grey with nothing but a flashlight and the frosty crackling of ice beneath her feet.
she tried to remember how she got here, and whether there had been any clarity in her existence, before. she’s certain that there must be a beginning to all this, somewhere, but it seems impossible to recount the memories, as they drift and blur in her mind, until becoming completely intangible – damp breaths amongst dull masses of fog.
the furthest memory available to her is actually a feeling of fascination. she remembers fresh, congealing air, a shiver, and a dive into that captivating darkness that wasn’t just absence of light, anymore. she had been so cold. with a bright buzzing sound in her ears, singing along, she felt the harsh wind take the pain and the aguish heat off her cheeks, when she stepped out of somewhere into vastness, this impossibly beautiful vastness. the flashlight that lay heavily in her hand – she turned it on. it clicked as expected. whatever way its beam pointed, now, it soaked the air in warm light and the darkness began to gleam, revealing no more, but alluring.
and so she wandered for years. fascination has faded, since then. she recalls how her fingertips and toes turned blue, eventually. and that sneaky, weakening cough made her wish for another fever. she knew, now: she had stepped out to find something else, another adventure, maybe. however, the light cone had revealed nothing but fog – more fog behind the old fog. she tried out calling for help, but the world lay in silence. she kept on repeating her own name, over and over, for it was the only thing she remembered for sure, but had to give up when she lost her voice to the chill.
it seemed, the light’s range and colour have dwindled, as well. sometimes, it appeared to her as if the air around was glowing all by itself and she was a shadow inside. she herself had become that eerie gloom on her way through the blind fields. she would now spend her days walking, observing the darkness that came out of her lamp, following its stiff stare, forced to turn wherever it pointed. it had become her only eye, following her every movement, nearly blind as well – but watching, at least.