Snow drops

(Birds,snow,strangers and a marble statue)

“Snow-drops...Snowflakes...Snow-falling all around...”

Marcus was delirious, cold and alone after finding himself lost in a forest a day or so previously. He had decided to escape the city to ‘clear-his-mind’.

Oh how the irony is not lost on this night...

He soon found himself unprepared as a blizzard moved down from the mountains above, sweeping the lands below with a bitter cold wind. Into the night the winds pelted Marcus as he made his way across the ever deepening snow that fell below his feet. Until, in the early hours of the morning, when he discovered an empty hunting cabin and made his way inside.

“Snow-man...Tiffany-snow...snow-clown...Tiffany...”

And there he now lay, many hours later, alone in the empty cabin with nothing to occupy his mind but the constant cries of the blizzard outside and the bone rattling cold that his body had succumb to. He lay shaking uncontrollably on the wooden bed pallet calling for his wife, apologising to her between muffled commentaries regarding the snow.

‘Snow-plough...Snow-cloud...Tiffany is all around...”

It would be clear to anyone who was to enter the cabin at this moment that Marcus would not be alive to see day break.

The cries for Tiffany became more desperate, he prayed for her comforting hand, as his body’s imminent failure drew closer. Still no body arrived, no body heard his cries.

However, perched outside on one of the large pine trees branches, sheltered from the bitter gales, sat two elegant large snow owls peering through the darkness.

Their white plumage stood in stark contrast to the darkness around them, their sharp yellow eyes staring ahead. Just waiting, watching Marcus as he lay inside the cabin.

Meanwhile Marcus’ body began to slow down, he stopped calling out to Tiffany and his vision began to blur before him. It seemed to darken at first, becoming vast and hollow, until a light appeared in the distance before splitting into two and floating towards him. Large wings spanned his vision and brought with them warmth that caressed his face. The feathers seemed to consume his body in a flurry of excitement as he began to strike back at them in a panic.

The opening that had been created by the feathered creatures allowed the snow to make its way inside, swirling around the interior and seemed to fill the cabin with clouds that drifted amongst themselves, appearing heavenly in their solemn dance.

A man confidently entered the cabin, walking through the clouds as towering statues of angels stood guarding on either side. Grabbing his outstretched hand, Marcus lifted himself off the ground and began to follow the stranger through the doorway and past the marble statues that protected them from the blizzards chill. In the forest they entered, fading into the darkness.

A number of days later, after the blizzard had settled, a local hunter had made his way down to the hunting lodge Marcus had found himself delirious inside on that chilling night.

In his horror, the interior of the cabin seemed to have been vandalised. The walls and cabins furniture all seemed to have been scratched by something desperate, with what appeared to be claws or finer nails. Placed upon the wooden bet pallet was a large white feather, radiant and undisturbed.