Frigid Delirium
The lights of my cabin far behind me, I search in conditions that favor no one and no thing, on a night that holds nothing but a wall of cold shifting amid howling winds.
As I plod ahead, all is disjointed, whiteouts removing any context from my surroundings. The bitterness of cold stings my face and wraps my body in a blanket that saps, rather than strengthening me. The dull ache that grips my fingers and toes means something. Something.
Direction no longer has any meaning. Left could be right, and forward seems irrelevant. My venture now seems pointless, any reason for following this course now lost to me.
Wondering if I’ll ever know again the warmth of a flaming hearth, I wade through the knee-deep snow, suddenly stepping into nothing as the snow closes around me. A cow is screaming across the arroyo.
This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery #7: Jim Harrison, presented by Linda at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is “A cow is screaming across the arroyo.” from Jim Harrison’s “Cow.” My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.
rivrvlogr 
Sounds like a miserable scary place to be. The cow’s scream manifested your state.
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Oh, how I hate winter storms!
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Fantastic placement of that line about the cow!
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Thanks!
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Wow Ken, you really build the suspense and drive home that feeling of being lost and alone.
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🙂 Thank you, Linda.
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An ominous ending. One doesn’t know what is underneath that thick snow.
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But we finally know why I am out there!
Thank you, Frank.
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Both allegorical & realistic, this one chills and shines; lost and freezing to death, delirium sets in–enter the screaming cow arroyo left.
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And right on cue.
Thank you, Glenn.
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I can feel that cold, and then to end with that quote, wow, what a scene you’ve set.
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🙂 Thank you.
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A blizzard creates its own state of mind. Menacing. (K)
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That it does. Thank you.
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I think I want hot cocoa after reading this … 😉
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And a warm fire!
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Yeah! For sure! Or where else would one prepare the hot cocoa … 😉
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Ha!
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🙂
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This was really well done, you drew me in quickly as the suspense builds. Snowstorms can be brutal and the cold leaves one’s senses numb.
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I’ve experienced my share, and yes, they can. Thank you. 🙂
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Quite effectively delivered! (Glad it’s fiction.)
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Thanks. 🙂
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Your prosery is a complete contrast to the hot, dry deserts I’ve been reading about, Ken, and has given me the chills! The descriptions of the ‘wall of cold shifting amid howling winds’ and bitterness of cold that stings and wraps [my] body in a blanket’ are painfully realistic. And I like how you made the reader battle through the snowstorm with you until the very end for the line from the poem.
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Thank you, Kim. 🙂
It’s pleasing to know I was able to draw the reader into the story.
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I’m surprised nobody has mentioned the Good Shepherd yet LOL!
It’s a very evocative description of cold and the fear of being overcome by it.
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Thanks, Jane.
As for the Good Shepherd, that never occurred to me. So, yes, thankfully.
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🙂
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I agree with Glenn, both figurative and real. Very well done!
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Thank you. 🙂
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Your description of the cold is really well done.
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Thank you, Sarah. I worked outdoors, as a truck driver, and I’ve had plenty of experience with this type of weather.
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Walking in whiteout is among the scariest thing you can do, and I have certainly fell deep into the snow a few times… the screaming cow is just the next part of such a nightmare.
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Thanks, Björn. I know I’m happy to stay indoors in that type of weather!
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I’m still shivering, ten minutes after reading this. Good job, Ken!
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😀 Thanks, Bob.
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You’re very welcome, Ken.
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I’m sure many a farmer has ended up like this, searching, lost in the blizzard. How fast those homestead lights disappear … Nice writing!
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Thank you. 🙂
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Beautifully written. Your details are exquisite. I love how the journey begins with howls and ends in screaming. So many of my ancestors are resonating with this story; must be embedded in my farmers-surviving-winter DNA.
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🙂 Thank you.
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The title is ominous and leads us into the blinding whiteness of a freezing storm — the description leaves us staggering, unsure of where we are, what is up or what is down….I imagine an avalanche of sorts….and the mind hearing strange sounds.
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Thank you, Lillian. I’m glad I was able to pull you into this short tale.
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