This started out as an experiment/practice with imagery, but now I use it occasionally for writing references which is fun. I know it's not too terribly long, but as soon as my schedule lightens up I'll be able to do more lengthy stuff. That being said, enjoy this funky thing.
Also, if you have free time, Google "Kråkevisa".
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Snowflakes fell thickly and wetly, buffeted sideways by forceful gusts of wind and landing in smooth rolling hills, flawlessly white. Black trees jutted sharply from the piles of snow, reaching their skeletal branches high like lines of ink against the crimson sky. Ahead, the icy path snaked its way through the forest, inviting only the bravest of heart or the dumbest of ass to continue.
Neither the frigid and biting cold, nor the awareness that he was utterly and undeniably alone bothered him. He blinked wet flakes of ice out of his eyes and stared ahead. Thoughts and emotions were quieted to a dull throb; he was lost entirely in the scene around him. The wind whistled in his ear. Crows flying above him screamed bloody murder. A sign that he should keep moving.
He walked with his head down and body pitched forward slightly, with a stride that was swift and purposeful. It was like he was determined to leave everything, even himself behind.
Snow crunched softly underfoot, a steady percussion to his breaths which were coming in shallow puffs. He made a small noise in his throat as he flexed his fingers. They were growing stiff and painful.
With every step, time ticked forward and the world darkened. Shadows grew more purple and distorted, melding together in a molten abomination. He wasn’t sure how far he’d get before the darkness overcame him.
Then something caught the corner of his eye. A shadow that gleamed in the early moonlight. He stopped with a jolt, frozen by exhaustion, fear, and a dangerous sense of curiosity. The figure before him was that of a Crow, large and unafraid. With a turn of its head, its marble eye pierced right through him, asking endless questions and receiving twice as many answers from his mind and soul. He gulped, refusing to tear his gaze away from the Crow.
The bird clicked its beak once. Twice. It tilted its head sharply, then its chest expanded, and it wheezed out a call that sounded more like a song.
Hey fa-ra, it sounded like, Fal-tu ril-tu ral-tu-ra.
He gave the Crow a heartbeat-longer’s worth of regard, before swallowing his uncertainty and continuing along his path. Its call rang in his ears like a warped record. He could feel the intense stare of the bird prickling along his spine, until there was a faint shuffle of feathers, and the uneasy knowledge of the Crow’s departure. The cold, snowy air was still and silent once again.
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