Under Sarcastic Stars

A mans journey through the cold wilderness, battling the elements and death, ends with a startling discovery.

With every step, the cold winter wind sears into his bones.  Each step was as painful as the last, as the thick snow frosts his toes so much he can no longer feel them.  He leans against a tree and feels twice his age. His straggling beard looks like a snow-covered hedge that hangs lifelessly from his face.  Despite the many layers of woollen scarves and capes, the brutal temperatures touch his body as though he were naked.  This was the unforgiving wilderness, and he was the sinner for experiencing it.

 

The darkness falls, and his vision reduces.  Ahead of him is a desolate whiteness.  It reminds him of icing on top of a cake, pure and flawless in its starkness. Aside from the odd group of trees dotted about, this was the most unremarkable of lands, and yet, the most remarkable in its beauty.  The night sky unveils a glittering festival of stars that shine with a thousand years' worth of brightness and clarity. 

 

He keeps going forward, towards an unsighted goal.  Dipping his hooded head down to avoid the sting of the ice-edged wind, he looks straight down at his black boots, slowly and steadily going through the snow.  He focuses on this the best he can to try and take his mind off his pains and the fact that he is in trouble.

 

Approaching the crest of yet another valley, he looks down into it and sees what looks like a vast black hole that engulfs light and life alike.  As soon as his eyes adjust, he discovers that it is an enormously thick forest, bleak and brooding, which fills his empty stomach with a sense of foreboding.  It fills his brain with delight because trees meant a respite from the wind and snow, and perhaps a chance to pitch his small tent.

 

Heading down into the forest with the full moon watching intently, he glances up at its radiant glow and immediately stops in his tracks.  Ever so slightly against its light, the shadow of a willowy wisp of smoke appears to frolic in front of the moon.  It disappears almost as fast as he had seen it, creating a sense of doubt in his fatigued brain that it hadn’t been there at all. 

 

The trees are dense and tightly-packed together, and he struggles to get through them.  Exhaustion and hunger were dominating his brain.  The cold was eating at his heart and slumber gnawing at his mind.  There was no space to pitch a tent, but he couldn’t anyway, such was the intensity of coldness in his fingers.  He wraps his arms around himself to squeeze an ounce of warmth or positivity from himself.  He could feel his eyes closing.  He knew what would happen if he did shut them.  But a final sleep seemed bliss.  No more pain, no more coldness.  The tightening pressure that was squeezing his brain would lift.

 

He stumbles on a few more steps before collapsing to his knees, leaning against a stick that is protruding from the ground.  He falls slowly onto his back and stares at the miniscule gap in the treetops that allow him to see the ancient starlight.  His breathing, which has been fast and grasping, is now slowing.  The drowsiness is making everything seem as surreal as a nightmare, with the trees dancing around him like witches around a cauldron.  Even the stars seem to shoot in delight at his plight, sending sarcastic twinkles his way.

 

Salty tears spring forth and race down his red-bitten face; his eyes decide to close on the Final Act of his life’s story.

 

The last image is that of the stick he was leaning against, too shapely to be natural, with a square piece of plank nailed to the top that says only one word “Claus”.

 

His face remains at sleep until this image filters at last through all the processes in his brain.

 

His dark eyes then shoot open with wild delight.  He had found who he was looking for.

 

 

Author's Note

Part of the #bepositivewritenowchallenge where writing short stories quickly and for fun, focusing on positivity (usually at the end) are the key. Enjoy the reading!

Reviews

[Penelope Lee]

I really like this. It shows that optimism is a great thing, and it goes to show you why artistry and happiness are interrelated.

[#BePositiveWriteNow]

Thank you! Optimism is indeed a great thing, which is what my stories are all about.