The din of an airplane is muffled by the encompassing darkness. You can’t tell where the ground ends and the sky starts. Pinpricks of light on the ground are as scattered as the stars in the sky, and it feels like you’re sweeping through pure, empty space. A few minutes later, as the moon rises higher, a wrinkled mountain range is visible, illuminated by soft white moonlight. Pure wilderness surrounds isolated homes, on slopes and white-crested peaks. It’s silently, desperately beautiful.  

Few headlights fly past on the lone highway. Sloping mountains are barely lit in the blackness of night by the moonlight. Everything is hidden from sight, blanketed under the dark sky. It’s up to the imagination what it looks like.

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First Morning Since the Unthinkable

Something short I wrote after recent events. 

I walk up the stairs, feet scuffing the worn concrete. My bag feels heavy on my shoulders. My vision blurs as I brush past the blue ribbons hanging from the railing and I retreat into my tumultuous thoughts.

The halls are quiet today.

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