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Soft, white specs of snow gently kissed Ivan’s rosy face as he pushed and stomped his way through the inches of snow surrounding his legs. The cold didn’t bother him, he was well equipped and suited-up in his rock-solid, leather boots and tattered scarf.
"I am Russian, I know everything about snow…" He thought to himself. "I’ll be home in no time, if I just…keep walking."
He stood still, knee-deep in snow, looking ahead to the horizon. Again, he reassured himself. "It’s not that far, I have walked further!..."
Snow piled on top of hills that stretched for miles, far further than anything Ivan could see, not that he could see much with all the snow that was being blown directly into his eyes. Through the white fog and the dark, parted clouds, Ivan could just make out the familiar glow of the full moon. He has always loved the moon. In his own words, the moon is the closest friend you will ever have. Friends will come, and friends will go, that is just the way it works. But, every night, you are guaranteed to feel the welcoming hug of the moon once more, just like you did the night before, and just as you will the next night. The moon will always be there, even if you can’t quite make it out. It was in lonely nights like these, that Ivan looked back on these monologues and recounted them in his head. Going over those same words, over and over. He stopped repeating his words for a moment.
He stopped recounting his speech in his head. He stopped thinking, and let himself get carried away in the iridescent embrace of the moon’s glimmer. He took in a deep breath of cold air and sighed, as the snowflakes continued to peck at his chilly body. He shut his eyes and, for the first time since he had begun his walk home, felt completely at peace. The snow seemed to halt and the heaviness attributed to his, practically brick, boots seemed to lift. He stood there for what seemed to him to be an eternity, but in reality only a maximum of 10 minutes had passed. He didn’t want to continue his walk. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to pull away from the moon’s polite hug, for letting go would feel like an unknowing, final goodbye to an age-old friend. What if he closed his eyes again, and this serene feeling did not return? What if the opposite happened, and the feeling that fell upon him was harsh and painful?
By some mysterious force, the wind blew upon his ears in a tune that he could decode. The breeze played against imaginary wind chimes inside his head, and he understood the message the moon itself was delivering through these gales.
“Ivan,” The moon spoke inside his mind. “Continue your journey, do not let my tranquillity distract you from your goal. You are reluctant to give up my embrace, I understand, but my dearest friend, I am not unreliable. When you return to your home, and you close your eyes once more, you will again be wrapped in my glow. The Russian weather can be harsh and unforgiving, but I believe in you, my friend. I will always be right above you.”
He fluttered open his eyelids and the dreadful heaviness returned. The snow was building up around his legs at a quick pace. Before continuing his harrowing journey, he looked back at where he had once walked. Frosty trees lined his view, and the hard steps he had once fought so hard to make had now vanished. He thought about that for a moment. He wasn’t sure why, but that fact stuck in his head. He shook it off and continued his daunting travel.
Minutes passed like hours as the snow battered against his freezing cold face. With each step came more and more pain, as his legs struggled to pick up his frozen boots. He wrapped himself in his own arms as tight as he could whilst forcing his way through the cold. The clouds above him, once clamped together and black, had softened and parted– though, to Ivan’s sadness, the snow refused to cease. With a shiver, Ivan dropped to his knees in defeat. He seemed to have made no progress in what felt like forever. Looking up, he stared at the black sky, made clear by the parted clouds. This time, however, he did not look to the moon. No, he looked at the small specs of light that sparkled overhead. They seem so small, floating up there. And yet, what seems to us but a twinkle in the void above, is a centre-point for something much bigger than us.
He felt so useless, thinking about these creatures.
“To them…” He croaked, “I am nothing. I do not affect the ways of the world in which, to not a single soul, I exist. So why really do anything, if not to have an impact? Why walk all this way through these harsh conditions if, when I return home, all I will do is rest? Nothing I do will ever matter to those far away. Perhaps that is a good thing…no? I don’t have to worry about consequences if they are not aware of my actions… But my actions do not only include my mistakes. What about my hardships? I want to be known for the effort I put into everything. The soul I have put in to make it this far, the force each step has taken me… no one will ever congratulate me for walking. No one will be there as I open the door to warm me in their embrace. I am alone. So why do anything? Why do anything for no reward? I am walking, I am hurting, and for what? I will return to the snow one day, so why leave the snow at all? The people far away in the distant galaxies will never bat an eye at my struggles. I can never change the world for the best, if I cannot change my ambition… So why move from this spot at all?”
“Maybe General Winter has conquered me, once and for all…?”