Aurora

Aurora

It was still dark outside when I started up the mountain. Stars twinkled merrily and the moon cast her soft glow, throwing dark shadows over the craggy landscape. These shadows danced with the movements of the clouds, adding to the already eerie atmosphere. I ignored this display and surged forward, pausing only to duck the fence designed to keep out the wild pigs. Some of the barbs caught in my sweatshirt, and I felt them graze my back. I managed to extricate myself without doing too much additional damage, both to myself and to my sweatshirt. I quickly ran my hand up my back, and it returned slightly sticky. This night was not off to an ideal start. I wiped my hand on the ground, then shifted the backpack I carried back into place. It was small, a composition of zippers and muted colors. It weighed almost nothing, and contained only a few, unimportant items. There was a water bottle attached to the bottom right corner by a small metal clip, and it bumped against my leg with every other step. I didn’t need it, really, the backpack or the water bottle, but they gave a certain kind of comfort and routine that I sorely needed. The crunching of gravel quickly gave way to the soft padding of careful feet on damp moss. Twigs and dead branches littered the path but I picked my way around them, almost unconsciously. The shrubbery quickly began to encroach from all sides. The first bushes I passed were at knee level, branches angular with green leaves poking off in random directions. They were clustered in groups, competing for the same scraps of dry dirt. I wished them the best of luck in their quest for survival. I moved on, and these bushes soon gave way to saplings, then fully formed trees. The weathered bark was chipped and scratched in some places, and entirely scraped off in others. A number of branches hung directly across the path, and I would 156

occasionally have to shift one out of my way. The leaves clung to these boughs for dear life, fighting a losing battle against the elements. Like the shrubs, I gave these leaves my regards as I walked past. The muddy ground sucked on my feet with each step. I was glad I had the foresight to bring an extra pair of shoes for the remainder of my stay, as these would be too disgusting to wear again. Still, I took care to step around the small puddles that dotted the trail, and worked to avoid the most treacherous parts of the path. While my journey was not dangerous by any stretch of the imagination, every few minutes I would double back around the edge of a sheer cliff. Each time I walked along this edge my feet brushed small pebbles to the side and into the abyss. They tumbled down, rattling against the rock face and each other as they went. I almost wished I could join them. I came across wildlife only once on my journey to the summit. As I picked my way through a particularly dense patch of brambles I turned right and stopped. The two deer on the path ahead of me stopped as well. It was a buck and a doe, and they looked as surprised to see me as I was them. Perhaps they had been hoping to consort in the woods in secret, and I had interrupted their ritual. Perhaps they were in love. If that were the case, surely I should apologize and continue on my way. And yet I could not move. We stared at each other for an eternity, the deer and I. I saw my reflection in their glassy eyes, and they must have seen theirs in mine. Finally the buck snorted once, then nudged the doe with his horns. She broke eye contact, and they made their way off into the trees. I watched them go until it was impossible to discern their shapes from those of the trees. I made the remainder of my journey in silence. There had been a waterfall by the entrance road, but its roar had been quickly left behind. Now, the quiet that was only interrupted by the occasional hoo of an owl or the almost imperceptible dripping of water. This dripping was something that I was only 157

peripherally aware of. I wasted no time pausing to listen to the wind or peer into the muddy darkness. I had a deadline. The sky had begun to lighten by the time I reached the summit. The dense foliage that had surrounded me on the trek up gave way to an open, windswept rock face. Scrawny shrubs clung onto the rock for dear life, and several gnarled trees survived in the cracks between boulders. The boulders themselves were stacked on top of each other at almost impossible angles. I chose a boulder at random and placed my hand on its granite face. It was cold to the touch, but surprisingly smooth. I gave it a small push and, even though I didn’t really expect it to move, was mildly surprised at its immobility. I drew the hood of my jacket up tight around my ears to protect them from the gnawing cold. My breath misted out in front of me, forming clouds of moisture which seemed almost unnatural on the bone-dry mountaintop. I dropped my bag to the ground, and the bottle fell with it. The sound of metal hitting stone was shocking. I realized that now there really was quiet. There were no more hoos, and even the dripping was too afraid to make its way up here. I picked a flat rock to sit against, and arranged my limbs comfortably. I took a quick sip of water, out of habit rather than thirst. My eyes were fixated on the brightening horizon. It had quickly shifted from black to blue to yellow to pinkish red, and the sky was getting lighter all the time. There was not an animal in sight, and I suspected that it was not a random occurrence. It was only fitting that I was to spend the final minutes of my journey alone. The sun crested the trees at last, bathing the world in its orange glow. I sat in silence, contemplating the blank slate before me.

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Ella Harris

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