In Tenebrosity

In silence they sat.

Huddling close around the dying embers of their makeshift bonfire, they uttered no words, unless the frantic chattering of their teeth could be considered speech. Slowly, slowly the fire waned, shrinking, cowering from the ever-encroaching darkness. The sounds of distant twigs snapping, leaves rustling, gentle snow falling, falling, dampening the earth and whatever otherwise suitable kindling the party may have been able to use filled the air.

Eldest, youngest and neither, intruders of the night-shroud's kingdom, the domain of the dancing shadows and the creeping night that lay just beyond the reach of the firelight. The wind ran through the trees like a legion of swift, vicious hounds, tearing through the snow and piercing and poisoning the bones of those foolish enough to be caught by it.

But in silence they sat.

In fear they sat.

Night sounds echoing through the thicket, bouncing off rocks and sheer slopes, chilling them to their bones. No more use for silence, the eldest of the group said, "We cannot sit helpless around a dying flame, waiting for inevitable demise. One among us must bring us fuel."

Cried the youngest, "You, sir, are eldest and thus know the best twigs and leaves that burn. You should bring us firewood."

Said the man who was neither eldest nor youngest, "But you, sir, are young and nimble, and so you will be able to climb and reach places where the wood is sheltered and dry. You should bring us firewood."

Argued the eldest, "But you, sir, carry both experience and youthful dexterity, that both I and the youngest possess. You should bring us firewood."

Again, the middle-man spoke. "I would, sir, but I am afraid, and these nightly noises chill me to my core."

Said the eldest, "There is naught to worry about save the height of our fire. Now go, and bring us firewood."

"Very well, I shall go," replied the middle-man.

But still, despite the eldest's reassurances, in fear they sat.

In anticipation they sat.

Eldest and youngest watched as the man who was neither ventured beyond the reach of the firelight, into the dancing shadows, the creeping night. One minute passed. Then five, then ten. The fire, exhausted from its halfhearted dancing, began to lay down and sleep.

Cried the youngest, "Eldest, where tarries he who is neither youngest nor eldest? The fire is low and we are running out of time!"

Responded the eldest, "Do not worry, and have patience. He will be here soon."

The shadows beckoned them closer, threatening to engulf them whole, long fingers outstretched. The snow was dense now, obscuring both sight and sound. The middle-man did not return. The night-shroud tightened its grasp on the party, threatening to suffocate them, as it had suffocated the middle-man. Its windy hounds growled, yelled, bellowed, while the fingers of the creeping night crept ever, ever closer.

Another ten minutes passed, but still, in anticipation they sat.

In desperation they sat.

Wailed youngest, "We cannot wait any longer! One of us must go and collect firewood! He who is neither youngest or eldest is lost."

The eldest thought for a moment, gazing at the crackling embers of the fire, that waved and died, like a great clock counting down the minutes until their deaths. The sound made him dreary.

"I shall go," declared the eldest. "I am old, and if I, too, am lost to the night-shroud and its hounds, then I will, at least, have lived a full life. I will go and bring us firewood."

The youngest saw the wisdom in what the eldest said and said nothing. Rising from his snowy seat, the eldest trudged beyond the reach of the firelight, into the dancing shadows, the creeping night. The youngest waited, in silence, fear and anticipation. More minutes passed.

The youngest, all alone grew anxious, but still, in desperation he sat.

Alone he sat.

Nobody left to comfort him, to warm him, do give him hope, youngest was left all alone. The sad remnants of the fire and the agonising, cruel attack of the wind that blew and shook and snatched and threw were his only companions on this night. Alone, alone, silent, fearful, anticipating, desperate, alone, alone, alone. Nobody left to find him. Nobody left to save him. Eldest and middle were lost, gone. They would not find him. He would not find them. But the wind would, with its long, icy-cold fingers, reaching every nook and cranny across the expansive wilderness. It would find them, it had already found them, and would not let them leave. The great night-shroud had killed the hope of dawn. Casting its shadow across the dreary clearing, it trapped the intruders, the fools, the silent, fearful, anticipating, desperate, foolish intruders who dared challenge its iron-fisted reign. It would trap them, and the wind would end them. Drive them apart, leave them alone, leave them silent, fearful, anticipating, desperate, alone.

In madness he sat.

The wind flew through the trees, through the hills and mountains, into the bones of the youngest. Chilled, alone, silent, fearful, anticipating, desperate, mad. The wind called, begged, screamed. It tossed the embers like a child's playthings, hurling small piles of snow through the clearing. He heard his name called out multiple times, but he did not hear. He saw shapes and figures and hands in the darkness but did not see. The cold and dark threw him into a state of numb agony, but he did not feel. Chilled, alone, silent, fearful, anticipating, desperate, mad! He wished the wind would take him, rather than teasing and playing with him, like a twisted puppet-master. Finally, in a frenzied outburst of spite, the wind threw snow on the fire, smothering the warmth and light.

And the youngest, in madness, sat.

In tenebrosity the three men lay, snow coating their still, icy bodies, hands outstretched to the sky, hope gone from their glazed-over eyes.

The wind screamed its victory, and relentlessly swept the landscape in a frenzied dance. Gone was silence, fear, anticipation, desperation, madness. All that was left was the darkness, the night-shroud, the dancing shadows, the creeping night, the tenebrosity.

And forever in tenebrosity they lay.