The Good, The Bad And The Dirty

Form and Void

I made my way cautiously up the road, hugging my leather jacket tight to me. The fog was hanging low. Through the grey wisps and clouds the street lamps casted down pools of hazy yellow light. I gazed up at the clouds, watching them move and twist in the chilled winter wind. They rolled into each other, churning like ocean waves, gliding past me with grace. Then, when I turned my head, I saw it. What was once the green, lively ravine that ran beside the street, was instead a black, haunted lake. The drop-off had been covered by an inky blue shroud, the shadow and the fog acting as one to trick the eyes. Instead of brambles, bushes, and barren branched trees I saw a calm glassy surface, blue as twilight, gentle waves rolling past. Gnarled tendrils were clawing outward from the surface like reaching hands, calling me into the cold, endless water. The trees loomed up from the water, imposing giants that were black against the grey night with jagged branches. Glaring headlights tore the fog apart, illuminating my staring eyes and undoing the illusion, before being swallowed again, back into the maw. I thought how funny it was that I'd walked this way a thousand times and had never seen it so different. Every familiar path looked new, as if I had a strangers eyes. So I watched the lake with careful attention, and let the fog surround me. It felt wonderfully strange to be lost in a world that I knew like the back of my hand