Death in a Snow Globe


I found myself contained in a nearly lapsed snow globe where time had stood still. No noise, no wind, even the trees seemed to be purposefully intent to not disturb the layer of smooth, white weight upon their branches.

Like tiny, dark portals into worlds unknown, small streams peaked through broken pockets in the thick, white blanket that covered the ground. The smallest of flurries flitted and floated to the most evenly accumulated perfection.

Almost too clean, too white, too quiet to bear. Complete peace and silence except for the crunch of flakes being compressed and the hiss of full inhale and exhale from breathing big.

Wiry hints of color protruded and parted slightly to suggest the way along an immaculate, flawless path, surely leading to the man behind the curtain.

The resounding calm, the untouched, bright white, the way it blended with the sky, the subtle touches of color, it all did me in. It lifted my feet in a maddened, elated dash. I ran so fast. Overwhelmed, too ecstatic, my body lifted off the ground, into the air, and as I calmly flew overseeing all that I could not handle, my heart exploded in the glass encased atmosphere and I died right then and there.

There is nothing quite like hiking Colorado mountains white washed with freshly fallen snow.