Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Hollow Wind

Something scurried on the surface of his bones.

A chill he couldn't shake.

As the radiators clicked, he walked though curtains of heat, but they rolled off without penetrating his skin. He dipped his arms into his coat and zipped it snug.

Behind him, the storm door bounced, then slammed after a final hiss. His feet crunched the latticework of frost-sculpted dirt.

Icy wind poured down the mountainside, and he dared the currents to sweep him into the valleys. But he wasn't going anywhere. When the cold ripped away the last of the inside warmth and connected with the animal chewing his bones, he stopped.

His black hair boiled like rapids in the torrent of air.

Across the distance, a dish of sunlight splashed from a crack in the slate sky. He watched it grow, shrink, then grow again.

In that moment, he decided. He released his breath into the wind and hoped it could reach so far away.

He let it go and tried not to feel the space where it had been.


Susan Abraham said...

I felt suddenly that I was a child again watching a scene from a favourite afternoon film that had good strong values rugged mountains landscapes in it.

And the poetry in your
'He released his breath into the wind and hoped it could reach so far away.'

One of your best pieces of writing, since I've read you, Jason.

Anonymous said...

I like the play of heat against cold. "His black hair boiled." All the passion of heat, just none of the burning.

Bernita said...

GOOD, Jason.

Anonymous said...

Lovely active verbs- so vivid and alive! Can you tell I teach English?!!! All this technical jargon..

kate said...

i love that picture. i wish i could stand out there and soak it all up.

Anonymous said...

This is why you are one of my favorite writers! :)

Oh yeah very cool photo.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful! Both picture and words. Don't ever stop writing.

mermaid said...

Hmm, your character is always trying to escape something...coldness...time...

I wonder what would happen if he opened his arms to hug the demons.

Jay said...

Oooh, thrilling weather!

jason evans said...

Susan, thanks so much! I really enjoy composing this kind of writing. Each line has to fit into the structure. Not only the meaning, but the song in the sounds and rhythm.

Bekbek, what a great observation! I think that was at work in my subconscious. Passion without the heat is a perfect way to put it.

Bernita, always appreciated. =)

Jude, actually I'm grateful for the acknowledgement! I strive to create the fire of a story in strong verbs and tight, but vivid descriptions.

Kate, I'll let you in on a little secret. That was taken from a moving car. Funny, huh? (Shhh, don't tell anyone.)

Beady, what a touching thing to say! Thank you! :)

Terri, you too. I'm very humbled. Thank you! :)

Mermaid, I'm going to think about that. What if, indeed.

Jay, nothing beats an unsettled autumn sky. It makes you want to find a blanket and a dark place to nap.

Sam said...

I know that lonely feeling. Excellent words.

Saaleha said...

WOnderfully lyrical, woven into a beautiful ochestra of words. I love the similies. ANd I must catch up on your thriller :-)

jason evans said...

Sam, hopefully the small connect you may have felt here makes it less.

Saaleha, what a wonderful compliment! Thanks so much. :) I hope you enjoy the new parts of White Rooms. I'm in a grove now with it. The final parts should not be delayed.

anne frasier said...

wonderful descriptions, jason.

jason evans said...

Anne, thanks, my friend. =)

klgilbert said...

Looks like the West Virginia hills.

Your writing just stops me in my tracks....I mean it!

Nothing escapes your are such an observer. It gives you a gift for detail, as a writer. Then you blend that detail with a metaphysical language and knowledge to create something so illuminating.

Love the gutsy way you go for it...

Anonymous said...


I thought I'd stop by and say Hi. Enjoyed your blog, the tone,color,style,photographs.

I'd like to comment on Unbridled Books and their Is Fiction Dead issue. Wonder how that's done. Are they named after the horse. If so I have a picture they might want.

Take care
Robert Brewer
(so writers can know who's Not in the market)

jason evans said...

Kaye, this picture was taken in your neck of the woods, I think. I snapped it along the Northeast Extension. ;) Seriously, I can't tell you how much it makes me smile to know that you understand what I'm trying to do here. I'm blown away by your kind words.

Robert, thanks so much for the visit! I remember commenting on that post a long, long time ago. Then, that blog seemed to disable commenting altogether. I haven't been back since then.