Amber Carter

Rite of Passage

Four days had passed since the ritual had begun. Each passing sunrise and sunset loosened my grip on time's passage, like sand spilling from a crack in an hourglass. This contemplation of time's grains slipping through my fingers was as disheartening as the cold, which sunk itself deeper into my skin, creeping towards the bones within. The long night stretched out before me, beckoning slyly and coolly as if a trickster waiting for the fool. The swarthiness reached out and pulled as each step taken into the inky wickedness slowly seeped further from my lone figure; it's invisible current pulling me on and on.