Sunday, June 03, 2012

Café Tales VII

From atop one of the mountains that contain the lake, I sight the water through a rare gap between the trees. It reflects the white cliffs and the clouds above, but its color isn’t the beautiful turquoise seen on the cover of my travel brochure. The chills, though, arrive as advertised. It’s the silence, the wonderful absence of human chatter. I push past icy branches and shrubs, and as I sense the “wide, magnificent view” approaching, my right foot slides deep into the snow, jerking me forward. I fall to my side, and instinctively push against the ground to pull my leg out only to send myself tumbling down the slope. My eyes shut in self-preservation as the snow slams my face. Plants and rocks try in vain to get in the way of my gathering momentum. There’s a second of nothing but air journeying with me, and I open my eyes. A blue wall appears.


More tales this way.

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