His face looked inscrutable. His athletic body was tensed up. He was holding the piece he accidentally found buried in snow.
A triangular wall mount with 3 elk heads, out here in this Alaskan snowy wilderness. A smile appeared on his face as he saw the snowstorm surrounding him. He whispered, “At least they had the privilege of dying at home. I am lost and far from mine.”
As the wind gust forward to deliver the final blow, the pure white landscape was anticipating the arrival of the Dark Angel.
Is it irony that his dying breath, is the only sign of life in the wilderness and that the only witnesses to this event are the ones already dead?
Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt