3 min read

Snow White

A writing exercise on Snow White-esque themes of uncertainty and waiting out the snow storm.

It stifles me how everything around us is shrouded with uncertainty. It stifles me, this shroud of uncertainty. I am lost and in need of a compass to lead me to the most secure path. But even a compass won't ensure I will make it safely to my destination. Or if I will ever make it all.

These strong winds can uproot even the sturdiest of hardwoods. What are a pair of sandals or the grip of my frail hands to tightly woven fibers of centuries? I am certain of being carried away and buffeted into nowhere, my overcoat and hair fluttering in the gust. A play of dice to the dropping point nearest my next town, but a bruised body and possibly broken bones no less.

Hazy clouds, the sky is nothing but a depressing white veil. Draped over the forests and towns around me, or perhaps, to conceal me? They will never find me until the storm recedes. I will never be able to find them.

Everywhere I will be thrown at will be misty from the fog. No lamp or torch will penetrate such veil. The fog has gotten so thick. Silhouettes of objects barely ten yards away are no longer visible. I might as well be treading through the ends of the earth.

Will my voice make it through? The cold air muffles my words. I try and scream to shake the rocks around me, but my voice has become hoarse. Water droplets hit my eyelids and nose, cold to the skin, and form globules around my lashes. Breathing in the air sends shivers down my knees. I keep my hands warm by tucking in them my overcoat. I open my lips slightly to let out another call, but I choke on the icy wind that blew past me. A sudden ringing in my ears when a branch broke off from a nearby tree and hit me against my cheek. I whimper, and this throat tightens up as the tears form around my eyelids. I push forth my foot against the strengthening winds, and heave myself towards a nearby tree. I stumble downhill, not having seen the ground curb a few feet from where I fell off.

Here I am sprawled on top of a patch of grass, a spot by a tree to shield me from the drizzle that has started to fall. I have a few scratches, but the parts of the skin where I hit the ground glow with warmth. I wrap my scarf around my head to keep my ears and cheeks warm. I take out this blanket from my satchel.

Rain starts to fall so I have to seek a safer shelter. A few steps around the trunk, and I see a dug-out nest under one of its roots. It looks warm and cozy, but I am fearful the rainwater might seep in and get the ground muddy. I crawl in to check, and a few meters from the opening, I see it leads to a deeper hole, that has stones and pieces of wood plastered against the soil. Could this be the old home of a dwarf?

Inside I lay out a blanket and stuff it against the wooden wall. I am making myself comfortable, and am now just waiting for the storm to pass. There is something about rainy days that makes one hungrier. I think it's the body trying to keep itself warm. I am glad I have collected enough berries for the trip, I have a few fresh ones to munch on and last me through this deluge. Though I feel like I may have wandered a bit too far from the glades, that I fell asleep from exhaustion.

I woke up with absolutely nothing around me. The fog might have crept in when I was dozing off soundly, and now with no knowledge of where North is, there is no point venturing out in the meantime. I might as well stay put, brave through the long night and the seemingly unending downpour, and hope against hope that I can walk once again on paved ground and bathe in warm sunlight.

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