An
icy cold breeze blows across my face. With it I could hear the distant howl of
the gust, the blowing of branches, the rustling of leaves hanging on to their
trees by the smallest of threads. The leaves, carried this way and that,
crashed into one another as the wind howled again. Some lost their battle and
began to dance with the wind, swirling as they slowly descended then rose,
riding another small gust across the winter’s sky. Upon the darkened road they
fell, each with a delightful crunch. The trees swayed, seeming to try and catch
their missing pieces. More and more broke free, or perhaps were stolen, from
their brown-limbed roots. As the sound intensified, it almost sounded of rain,
so many were falling. I closed my eyes and wondered, ‘does the falling leaf
hate the wind or is this the only time it truly feels alive?’ I listened for a
while, I cannot say for how long, the rustle taking on a musical quality,
rising and falling like an operatic sonata on each gust, large and small,
until, as if coming to a crescendo, a gale cracks a distant branch sending a
near deafening note into the night sky. At that, my eyes snap open.
Instinctively, my head whips in the direction of the noise. In doing so, I
catch a glimpse of a pale white light overhead. I had only a moment to process,
not nearly enough time to reconstruct my own demise, such as it was, but I
already knew: my doom had come. Eyes dilating, I am overwhelmed with a blinding
pain across my entire body. Muscles contract and spasm, my jaw snaps on its
own. In a flash, I have lost all faculties… the beast has taken over.
