The Room Of Dancing Shadows

She did the dishes precisely and violently. Strapped her boots on and stormed out the door. She made it look like a fast paced stroll but inside, she was running. As if escaping a house on fire. She knew that place would still be there and it would bring her back to herself. She knew the frozen lake would pump fresh air back into her lungs. Rid her of all the staleness that had become her. Fine tune her scrambled thoughts at last.
The smallness of her world had shapeshifted into a giant ferine beast with sharp teeth tearing at her skin and gnawing on her from the inside.
All that stood in her way was a few hellos to the neighbors and strident barks from their dogs.
Just a few more steps. She can now see it from a distance. She picks up her pace and a wave of impatience hits her in the face.

Brown Grass. Trees. Naked. Flickering in the wind, casting shadows like glowing tongues of candles. She’s close enough now to see the lake. Her eyes capture the frozen beauty. She walks up to the fence. She can go no further. She needs not to go any further. Her heartbeat starts settling and the sun follows along. The sky, a mixture of blue and pink haze just over the small valley. Svelte trees lined up on the top and she wonders if they were there yesterday. Certainly there was not a detail of this place that hasn’t been captured by her mind. She feels an urge to write about it. The words start pouring out of her but not a pen and paper on site. She’s reminded one more time of the vastness of life and that thought alone soothes her troubled soul. It only took but a few seconds. Like a combative patient in a mental hospital who’s administered sedatives. This place, she thinks, is where she’ll go after she dies.

Confutatis Maledictis. Flammis acribus addictis . Voca me cum benedictis. She sings along wondering why someone would compose their own Requiem. Probably much like a carpenter building their own coffin or a writer picking her own place to arrive upon her death. She chuckled.

When you’re in pain everything becomes so beautiful. Painfully beautiful. Writing from a place of pain, worrying the words into existence, somehow transcends those same words into a different realm. Suspended in time. Frozen solid for passer bys to admire. Much like her frozen lake.

Were there to be an observer at that moment, they would simply wonder what’s so interesting about some dead grass, leafless trees and a small frozen pond. What they wouldn’t see is these very things pulling at her spirit, and she, fervently surrendering her fate to them.

The indescribable beauty of nature, the sky on a cold crisp night full of stars and wonders never fails to put a smile on her face and all the troubles of this universe and the next, seem so minuscule and insignificant. Life and all that comes with it, good and bad, is absolutely wonderful. Who are we, if not collectors of moments?

The giant has been fed. She starts making her way back home. ChopIn’s Nocturne in her ear makes the perfect soundtrack for the most beautiful sunset she’s ever seen. Much like the one the day before. And the day before that. She recognizes herself now. The beast is asleep.