He looked down and saw nothing. Cold air ran through his neck and crawled under his hair. Rough rope wrapped around his hands. The hard strands pierced into his skin until it turned red. He couldn’t breathe but it didn’t bother him. He looked up and saw clear white. His feet burnt and bled into the raw wood. It creaked under him. Cracks appeared underneath his feet.

He turned to the side. Ice covered everything. It dressed the trees with gowns of white and crystals hanging from each branch. Wind passed through them like chimes. Their soft song echoed in between the white barks of trees. Snow fell over the forest like the veil of a ghost. Footprints in the snow marked their way back into the white storm until they could not be seen anymore. A snowflake fell over his hand. He watched how it melted into his skin. The wind grasped his hand. He closed his eyes and felt how the fingers caressed his palm and rose his hand from the rope. It pulled his hand to the forest.

When his foot moved, the bridge creaked. He opened his eyes and the wind let go. His hand fell to his side.

He looked to his other side. Fog blinded him. It was still, frozen as if waiting to be thawed. Quiet. It wasn’t the calm type of silence. It was empty, chilling, a silence that begged to be broken. The wind behind him sang. He took a step back into the forest.

A light broke through the fog. A white light like a beacon that cut through the fog. He reached out. The light was neither warm nor cold on his skin but he could feel it. He could feel its weight as it wrapped around his hand like fabric. It crawled up his arm and enveloped it like a boa. It didn’t pull but he chose to step toward it. A shadow appeared. He took another step and squinted through the fog. The silhouette of a man drained the light. It was black and void. It flashed for an instant and the light disappeared. His hand fell to his side. Once again, nothing but fog.

He stared down into the abyss. And took a step toward the edge of the bridge. He grasped the rope and looked down. A chill crawled down his spine. His feet wanted to move back but he forced them to stay still. He felt empty, lost, but freed. He lingered in the sensation.

He stepped back. He looked at the frozen forest and walked to it. He stopped where the bridge turned to snow. He reached out. His hand turned into ice and it clawed into his muscles. Blood ran through every crack in the ice. He gritted his teeth as he tried to pull back his hand but the wind had gotten ahold of him. He snapped his wrist and the hand broke into shards of glass. Blood froze at the edge of his skin.

He stepped back and ran to the fog. He stopped where the wood disappeared from sight. He reached out slowly, carefully. The instant his hand touched the fog, light appeared. A white light emerged from the tip of his fingers. He waved them. Red, blue, green, yellow, orange, purple, lights flashed through the fog as he moved his fingers. He created them.  Sound broke the silence. A note with every color, a song with every flash. He smiled. He could not see but that was alright. He could create his own light to find a way through the fog.

He stepped in. His body became light.

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