Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Vision (08/03/06)
By Lisa Hendricks
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She is intent as she walks, her eyes sharp and cast off in the distance. She is as sure of each step as if she is being guided.
Watch as her hair is lifted in the breeze. Her black hair is a stunning contrast to the pure white air.
She walks as if she knows she is a daughter, an heir. These hills are hers, this grass comforts her feet. She is walking, walking.
The only other thing that appears alive that morning are the birds in the sky. You cannot really see them; perhaps catch a glimpse as they move the air with their beating wings. But you can tell they are the true beasts of the sky.
They cry out on occasion. She does not pay them notice; her eyes are still cast on the vision in the distance. She is intent. The chilly morning dew is nothing to take note of, nor is the sun rising in the distance.
But the sun catches a bit of metal in the distance, sending a precious glimpse of reflection. It causes her to step up her pace, the fog becoming aroused with the wind.
When it seems like forever has passed, she reaches her destination. When she drops to her knees, you can see that her feet are damp and red.
Nevertheless, that does not matter now. She has arrived.
The tears that start to flow are just absorbed into the atmosphere. The wind seems to increase all at once, lifting her hair off her face. It would seem that the breeze is caressing her face; brushing back her hair with the intent of seeing her.
It is then that her eyes focus on the wooden beams, at the metal still sticking; twisted and mangled. She sees the slivers of wood poking out vertically and horizontally. They come to such a sharp point. She can barely focus on the ragged edges. Why did she think the wood would be polished?
Of course, her knees are damp from the dew on the grass. It feels so saturating, so liquid on her body. What if the liquid would transform into something more dense?
There was a reason she walked this distance, to this place. She needed to leave something behind in order to continue on; she knew this.
The package she carried was internal; it was a bundle of works created over many, many years. It needed to be left here. She was trying to summon the strength to release.
It was when she started to feel like a failure; her body started to feel so heavy, so laden that she collapsed against the wood.
Why did she appear so refreshed, so alive? Nothing externally had happened that one would take notice of. It was when she collapsed that she gained the strength to walk again.
I observed this that day. After she walked away, her face glowing like a school girl in love, her skin dewy with radiance. I wondered what had happened. What was in the wood that would make such a difference? Could I too walk that distance to find a song of my own there?
I began to walk.
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