I always say I'm going to talk about Alaska some day.
Today I will sort of broach the subject. But I want to talk about the wind.
The wind is howling, it's voice dark and eerie - making the house shudder and the windows breathe in and out as it applies icy claws to them.
The sound it makes is reminescent of a speeding train and the voice of demons. I watch it whip tornadoes of snow into blinding blizzards that rush into the trees to try to rip the limbs from their bodies. Thrashing, angry and violent - like a mad man slamming through the very air I breathe.
It is spellbinding to listen to. It is amazing to watch. It is scary on a certain level because you know, that it could destroy you, if it only gained a little more speed.
As I sit here and type, I look out the window and it is dark except for this streetlight that paves the road's curve by our almost isolated house. I see the eddies of turbulence and as I watch, it folds endlessly upon itself, like shrieking phantoms.
Part of me wants to cower under the bed, shivering with fear of this incredible force of nature.
But part of me wants to open up to the chaos.
I would love to be the wind.
To torment everyone with my slithering whispers. To shake their homes and blow through their rooftops. Like an evil troll who is happy at his game of fear, I would love to watch those who view me cower.
I would love to lift debris and throw it across the way and dump over cannisters like a thug running down the street. I would love to toss the boats around making them slam against the waves with a "whoosh" that would seem insignificant to the demonic howls I could produce.
So I sit here and watch the wind and let the goosebumps rise as I rub my arms and hold myself to make sure I am still whole.
Like phantoms they are swirling faster - like a dream that has been ripped asunder - I watch the wind.