she trudges along the icy uphill of the mountain,
her lips a frosty shade of blue,
her cheeks drained and colorless,
her eyes barely open,
her clothes covered in a thick blanket of snow.
a mist picks up and
flurries of snow encircle her,
drifting above her like an enchanted wind,
then falling onto the ground
becoming just a part of the
powdery, white landscape.
even hope has given up on her.
the top of the mountain seems
so far away,
and one misstep—
—one misfortune—
could end her life.
Posted in response to the challenge Climber.
Comments
What a beautifully fraught scene! I love your use of sensory detail and repetition (misstep/misfortune).
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