the dimming of the light (Part 25)

Peter Hunter

Day thirty-five continued

  again in my search my need for solitude - as dusk approached I walked down to the lake

  seeking I know not what, perhaps solitude in the slow saturation of incoming indigo stillness - perhaps the soothing burble from water birds - swans moorhens and coots. The night - heralding 'caraak' of an over-flying heron or the call-to-assemble of rooks winging back to their colony

  all of these things eleven in my search for peace

  West down the lake I heard the sqabble of Canada geese as they disputed territory, on the island where in a few weeks they would stake claims for the best places to build a nest

Even now trout were already stealing early flies from the surface encouraging sign that even this winter saw its ending in another spring

  and the peace interrupted as a startled deer fled the Old Orchard before running away along the far bank

  what had frightened it I did not know

All of these things I understood they were refreshingly familiar even more so in my world increasingly changing as the human content declined and faded.

Now a faint breeze arose cooler, more refreshing on my cheek, making me less conscious of my body odour and the unhygienic smell of having not washed for more than a week

Darker now but I knew this patch of country well and I also had my little aluminium torch with the light emitting diodes instead of a bulb kept charged from the solar powered trickle charger that we used for car batteries

  it would be a tragedy when it inevitably failed to function

but something disturbed me a more human sound contrasting with that of the wild creatures soft foot steps in the long lifeless winter grass

  from the direction of the Old Orchard

if not a person a ghost?

the shape I could see in the greyness of the dusk

who - or what?

I switched on my little torch

recognit.

(To be continued)

Peter Hunter 2012

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