He Fell

He fell; desolate, isolated, alone and cold, against the bare, rough back of the withering tree. He curled himself into a diminutive ball, holding his legs close to his chest. It wasn’t enough. The rain continued to barrel down harshly against his bare frozen head, and arms. Desperately he forced the emerging tears of anger back. There was nothing more to express at this point. Sorrow, misery, pain, regret; each were clearly shown in his atmosphere.

A stinging wind gusted against his back, howling through the barren twigs to the sleeping tree. Colorful, but broken leaves scattered across the field before him like an endless torrent of despondency. Puffs of light smoke billowed out as he breathed brashly.

He didn’t know what to think at this point. He didn’t even try. He wanted to die right there. Just to be struck down by some almighty force, and end the pain inside him.

It never came.

Instead a wavering blue figure approached from the horizon, slowly inching its way from behind him. Flying, gliding, fumbling, walking, pacing towards him. He hadn’t heard her until she reached the tree. He didn’t need to though; he had felt her presence arrive. He didn’t look up; he didn’t greet her as he would in his boastful optimism. He simply remained closed, curled within his own world, staring into the nothing, thinking nothing.

Moments filtered by, as time endlessly shrieked through the misty October morning. Only the whipping of her cloak broke the uneven drone of the howling winds. Her hand broke its mold, reaching out to comfort him, but faltered, and withdrew, returning to the cast. Her mouth split along the crevice in attempts to speak, but her voice broke, as only a stream of vapor drew out. She shivered against the cold steel rain.

The galling winds simmered, the rain diminished into a slow sputtering mist. Her lips cleaved one more as a sound vibrated, and echoed through the bitter heavy air. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

It was all she could manage to say. In her austere, tedious rhetoric. Had she been more demonstrative she might have punched herself for being selfish.

He hadn’t moved an inch though. The icy air still loomed over him. He had herd her remote chant, her dull remark, her tasteless tease, but refused to react.

The moment was awkward. After what had happened, after what he had said, it was hard for anyone to piece it together. A cold icy fear settled in through his shivering spine. How could anyone weed their way through the entangled mass of fear he had placed upon himself?

Indecisively she wavered there, leaning forward as the chilling winds pushed against her. She once again broke her mold, her arms gently embraced about herself, holding in what little heat they could. She breathed against the forcing winds, her breath visibly swarming about her head as the winds carried it beyond life.

Carefully, quietly, she unhinged her cloak. The wavering bands crackled against the movements she made. His ears twitched in the air as she made her sudden movement towards him. A pain staking frost bit him. He froze unable, whether he wished to or not, to turn against her. Her cloak gently braised up against his tingled skin, his soggy shirt, and his matted hair.

She pressed it gently against his back. He didn’t stop her. Her cloak sealed itself up against his back, against his legs, against his arms, slowly warming his skin through the foaming rain. The frigid rain, the hissing winds, the stinging air seemed to diminish as she rubbed her hand gently against his back. He broke his statue, turning to face her.

He smiled.