You stood atop the hill next to the pond. You could feel the wind ruffling your hair, perhaps it was a bit chilly. But that's about as much credit as you'd give the weather. Your eyes gazed across the body of water, the sunset had turned the water pink, the creeping indigo taking over the sky and bleeding across the pond waters, the sun taking form of orange and yellow blobs dancing on the surface of the pink depth. You stood there. Staring at the depression of land, feeling the wind carry your gaze to the land in front of you, laying atop the pond. The firm fir trees standing across the other side, carried with pride. They barely shook in the wind, the leaves only moving slightly, as if rooted in their position. You felt insulted, the wind blew throw your hair and clothes, how come the trees hadn't been affected? Perhaps it was silly. Getting jealous of a tree. Thick and strong, old, they've survived for longer than anyone would know. Their trunks getting darkened by the entering twilight. It always felt like a weird contrast, from this side to the one opposite, the other side of the pond. The comparisons felt odd, the other side had larger trees, the grass was longer, the wildlife was more dangerous. The pond was the only barrier, this pitiful puddle of freshwater keeping safe. Though it could hardly be called pitiful, you weren't a very optimistic person. The pond was more like a lake. Making the land on it's sides grow thin, it's waters taking most initiative from the shores. The pebbles lying deep at the bottom of the pseudo-lake. People often talked about living near here, how the stars were projectors near the lake, The night covering the whole of the terrain as a warm blanket, yet no one acted on it. Perhaps it was due to the other side? But people could fend for themselves. Maybe they were afraid of the dark, no matter how strong someone may be, they'd always be afraid of the dark. The sun continued to dwindle, but the dark here had been comforting, like a warm huddle on a cold day. You could use that, but who would want to admit the weather's wane in temperature? How the air had been getting crisper by the day, or how it'd teem down flakes of solid ice on cars and houses. The bright warm lights from inside the only things to tell it apart from the snow. But the pond had never frozen over, this place never had seemed to grow cold. Not due to any phony magic protecting it, or due to the fact it had been only the beginning to the harsh winters here, but you'd feel warm from the comfort this area brought upon it's visitors. You slumped down on the hill-shore, hearing the soft waves of the pond crashing gently against the bank, you rested down, your eyes closing slowly. Taking off the bright chullo from your head and placing it on your chest, holding it as you proceeded to drift to sleep, the sound of water helping curb you to your dreams.

THE POND

made 09.03.2022