Sterling River

The white room lights dimmed softly. I felt the beat in my heart

quicken and the sweat from my brow warm. All I could recall was sitting on

a bench down the beaten path I walked every day. I carried my leather-

bound notebook with me everywhere. Every single day for ten years, I

walked the path to Sterling River and wrote ten pages of a story in my

notebook. Shaking out of my reverie, I realized that this white room started

to feel like it was closing in on me. While panic sunk into my chest, the

lights faded to almost nothing. It made the room have this iridescent glow.

Flecks of silver glittered throughout the cracks. It was stunning. Something

that has never captured my attention like this. Raising one hand, I pressed

my fingers to the wall and traced each shiny trail. Snapping my hand back,

I furrowed my brow in pain. The frost-bitten feel triggered a lost memory

of mine. I’ve been here before…

Capping the lid on my pen I closed my notebook and inhaled the dewy

scent of Sterling River. Stunning from a distance but far too cold to the

touch.