The air was brisk and refreshing; the cold, clean but smoky perfume of a Winter midnight. The trees swayed gently with the frosty breeze and the moon shed a crystaline glow from it's lofty perch in the rose-coloured twilight.
I stood alone, a still figure amid the sea of short, well-trodden grass. And although the stars were lost in the faded, wispy clouds, every detail of the park was clear and bright, edged in silver.
I inhaled deeply, relishing the intense cold as it filled my lungs and throat. My hair floated on the wind, whipping around my face, as I walked under the cover of the trees. In the shadows, I felt safe. The darkling shade swallowed me whole and steeped me in the deep mystery of the night; I felt alive like never before. Never had the grass felt so soft beneath my bare, frozen feet, never the moon so bright, cradled between the barren branches of a tree.
I felt the urge to run, and, with a last look at the darkness behind me, I sprinted across the field as if on winged feet. The sky deepened on one side to a purply-grey; the somber velvet that hid the stars in it's murky depths.
Too soon, the white boards of the hockey rink appeared before me. I slowed to a stop, a smile spreading across my face. It was so good to be alive.
I kind of abandoned this piece...
