Footfalls in the Snow

​It was the snow that made me go. It must have fallen furiously all night, because when I awoke, the whole world was white. With the morning sun just wriggling above the trees, everything looked soft, shiny, and inviting.
 
So, filled with an uncharacteristic confidence, I drove to a new park I’d been longing to visit, leapt out of the car, and trotted along an unfamiliar trail. The woods were spectacular blanketed and bedecked as they were. Frozen branches and brooks dazzled me.
 
So taken was I by this winter wonderland that I threw caution to the snowdrifts and dashed up then down, right then left, over then under, until a realisation stopped me in my tracks: I had no idea how to get back to the car.
 
Snow was still falling and made retracing my steps impossible. So flustered was I, that I made a mental note to attach a large ball of yarn to my backside next time and let it reel out behind me. Preposterous  I know, but so was my current predicament.
 
Less intrepid now, I pivoted around and headed slowly back the way I’d come. I passed a hunched and grumpy man accompanied by a hulking German Shepherd. Neither one acknowledged me; although the dog may have curled his lip. 
 
The snowflakes that been delicately dancing before now seemed to pummel me from all sides. I was encircled by a pearly curtain, a white black-box that obscured my view of all but a leg’s length ahead of me.
 
I was not, however, buffered from a sound that had crept up from behind. It was the sound of footfalls that were not my own. Of course, when I looked over my shoulder, all I could see was snow.
 
Onward I ran, sometimes accelerating to escape, other times slowing to catch my pursuer off guard. But every change of pace was merely mirrored, and the following footsteps clung doggedly to me. Images of stalkers and thugs pierced my thoughts. I tried to rebuff them - conjuring benevolent forest spirits, who guided lost souls to safety.
 
On I ploughed with my unseen and unshakeable shadow plodding tirelessly behind.
 
Suddenly, a familiar landmark lurched into view: the bridge I had crossed shortly after leaving the carpark. I bounded madly toward it, nearly bowling over two stout women gingerly approaching from the opposite side. 
 
With a heady mixture of relief and delight, I galloped along the final trail to my car. Then I slowed my stride- listening for the ominous echo behind me. But all was snowy silence.
 
22 Jan 2019