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Writer's pictureKristin Naylor

The Valley


The air spat out as I hit the bottom. This valley is darker, lonelier than I had imagined. The heavy fog covers everything, it wraps around me like a blanket smothering light and lightness. I’m too weary to take it off. Evil is lurking below like a slippery snake and the mighty mountains above tower over this morbid valley taunting me with their majesty. Their beauty is picturesque, daring men scream victory at the top. I used to know something about those things, but not here in their shadow. There is no light to warm our faces here, the shadow of death is everywhere. I call out for you but my cries echo around this canyon and land on the prickly cactus. I scan the horizon for but it’s too dark to see. I hate this valley, yet here I am.

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