Intrepid Creatures

After a good day of walking, she folded her map and noticed minuscule pieces of it falling away and drifting to the ground.

She looked down at them, the prospect crossed her mind that one day she may lose her way, endeavouring to read a decrepit, decaying map. A flutter of anxiousness fell through her as the pieces continued to fall to the earth. She looked again.

Stars. Tiny sparkles.

Little balls of bright white light, twinkling brightly on the grass beneath her feet. Twas not remnants of an aging map, but pieces of a life that lay before her. She reopened the map with awe.

Tiny green, yellow, red and orange leaves rustled across the map. They were not misplaced at all, rather they were extensions of the map, as hair is on a humans skin. Natural, brilliant miniature bits of flora dancing across the page as though they were encouraged by a breeze.

The warmth and coolness of autumn, She thought to herself, and with that thought her attention was drawn to the maps’edges; the fine paper appeared to have subtle purples, pinks and navy ink, bleeding and feathering out across the page, The osmosis of twilight.

Her heart fluttered.

She looked down at the tiny stars again, now becoming brighter and brighter.

As the warmth of the day was vanishing and the refreshing coolness of the evening was settling in, the map reflected the very same characteristics she experienced. It's edges began to cool and the once warm page, slowly morphed into a dark slate that held within it an entire universe of stars.

How fanciful, how wonderfully odd, she thought, and yet that thought was laced with an ever so slight tinge of fear.

The 'not knowing', part of the journey did that.

We humans are intrepid creatures. She reminded herself. Utterly intrepid.