Anywhere but here

...And it was not long after they left that I started losing my purpose. Bare feet felt swallowed by the numbing mud, pointed at the still green fields. Small knives of Artic winter breached my snapsuit, leaving a gaping stare on my face like stone. I was defenseless in a smoldering ponder, paralyzed with hatred, she burnt our bridge and there was no going back. She's a queen of cake, not a woman nor wife. In a hastened exodus, they had left me two weeks and an oily briar.

The grounds became bleak over the next few days. Mountain walls around the valley grew each hour, providing a subtle security around the farm, yet granted no passage. The rocks built black ice, and the forest festered a brisk that tickled comforts through the walls of the cabin. The river still roared a dangerous flow, keeping me here, keeping me desperate.

The snow sank the valley floor deeper and deeper into a undisturbed slumber, dragging down the range with it. Green fields frozen in time, free from recourse. The only preservation I had was in a bottle of red hook, I pulled in between fever dreams.

Sunshine ceased to illuminate the land around my property. Only movement through the darkened forest kept me from falling into a stupor. In my final moments, I watched eyes with tact and composure surround the place that once board my children. Roaring river banks and tall snow drifts obscured there advance. I left her home many years ago, but she left me for dead, in this house...