Light of the Brightest White

I tend to be pretty content where I am in my patch of England and don’t often lust to be elsewhere, so I’m going to take the twist route of today’s challenge and go for fiction.

I wake up to sunshine. The room, not yet familiar, is painted white and the morning light bounces off the walls. It takes me a moment to adjust, my eyes pained by the brilliance of it. I’m used to blackout curtains and a north-facing window, so the full force of the sunrise blazing through my eastern view is an added element of difference. I know that when I get up and pull back the ineffectual curtain, I will see miles and miles of snow, so different from my leafy green country.

The room is a simple affair, set up for tourists like myself who just need somewhere warm to lay their head for the night. There’s a minuscule bathroom – almost every turn results in a bruise and a curse. I am reminded of caravans but this time the walls aren’t made from what seems to be a combination of cardboard and plastic. I am thankful, though, that the water is hot and blissful.

An hour later, suitably togged up in the necessary gear, I head outside. I have never experienced a cold so solid and physical that it knocks into me as I crunch ankle deep into the snow. The bare trees are heavily laced with ice, finger thick and paused in motion. I wonder what life exists under the whiteness underfoot, whether there is grass or dirt or grit under my boots.

In this winter tundra I take photo after photo, one macro shot after another. Landscapes that will surely never come close to reality when I upload them to my Mac, all depth and definition swallowed by the white. I am content, though, and happy with my initial explorations. I vow to return later, to see how the day changes my view and perhaps to catch a glimpse of those elusive Northern Lights. But now, my stomach is telling me that it’s time for pancakes, drizzled thickly with maple syrup. I’m going to need my energy, after all…

I find it quite tricky to describe just one thing. I feel like labouring over a view or a room will get staid and so am always tempted to move on. Does anyone have any advice to get me to stay put just a bit longer?!


4 thoughts on “Light of the Brightest White

  1. I love words and detailed description, so I can be with the writer. I think that it doesn’t have to be long, to be good, I just want the tiniest details for my imagination. I liked this!


  2. Write until it’s said. Then stop. Longer doesn’t always mean better. Writing isn’t a camera ( unless that complete image is the purpose/function of the piece), a writer can select and focus on just a few details, items, images to create a mood or feeling without counting all the cracks in the sidewalk. You want a picture but don’t want to torture the reader with every little thing – unless a complete picture is your purpose.
    Just assuring you that you don’t have to chain yourself to the scene and focus on every little detail – but you can if you want ..but if your gut says “time to walk away”, do it without guilt
    I enjoyed your post. This says a lot “minuscule bathroom – almost every turn results in a bruise and a curse.” That whole paragraph is just right.


    1. Thank you, that’s all really helpful! I’m glad you got a good sense of the bathroom and enjoyed that paragraph particularly. 🙂 Your feedback is much appreciated.


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