Fancy

The Changing Of Seasons

--to be edited

Winding through the twisting path, leaves flutter and whisper with the flow of wind. Crispy reds, greens and yellows mingle with patches of cloudy sunlight. My feet tread lightly against the moist, cool earth. I wear no shoes, and my toes sink into damp, deep mud. This road is unknown to the world, hidden behind great oaks and giant birchwood trees. The leaves on the ground protect my delicate skin from wayward rocks. It feels quite cold, but not to the point of needing a heavy jacket. The air feels heavy with the scent of pine.

I close my eyes, and feel a cool burn against my face. I am no longer wearing only the skin on my feet, but a pair of tight, rough black leather is buckled up to my knees. The ruby reds, emerald greens and golden yellows have disappeared, replaced by an ice kingdom, filled with a soft, crystal white wonderland. My boots crunch the snow and make imprints as I move through the path. The sky above is cloudy, and can be seen more clearly through dull, thin brown branches. My breath makes shapes as I breathe out, and my hands are red, and tingling.

After a while, I sit down and rest. My ice kingdom has melted away, leaving in its place an array of greens, browns, purples and yellows in its place. It is not freezing outside, but a cool breeze flies by as I make my way through the maze of flowers. My shoes are gone again, and the mud is warm, sticky. The smell that weaves its way through the air is intoxicating, and I finally understand the meaning of the phrase "Stop and smell the roses". It is wonderful, refreshing, and beautiful all in one.

I move further into the forest, and a blistering heat takes over and surrounds me. Now, upon my body sits a pair of shorts, and a thin tank top. Sandles sit on my feet, as the ground is hot and not as pleasant to the touch. Dragonflys, butterflys, every kind of fly you can think of drifts in the murkey air. Ahead of me, I can see that I've reached my destination; a large clearing, with a small lake with no sign of the presense of humans. I take a deep, relaxed breath.

Memories pour out of my mind from all of the times I've been here before. All of the time I've spent in this clandestine sanctuary. In many ways, this pathway is both a graveyard and a birthplace. Seasons come and go peacefully, untainted and undisturbed. This world would be a paradise, like my secret hideout if not for the presense of man.