PROELIUM
by
Eean Black

Proelium: A Latin noun meaning fight, war, engagement, attack.

The clouds rolled heavy and dark. What had started as a mild, passing weather front, had lulled into a compress of heavy snow and ice. A feel of malevolence lingered in the air.

Pressing and ominous was this morning sky, yet, still there was a beauty; the multiple gray hues and shapes of the clouds writhing, changing, living.

The temperature, though, was not so attractive. It was ten below and dropping steadily.

I was experiencing the worst weather since my move to this God awful place, yet, I was already beginning to admire it. I have always had a strange fascination with the extremeness of weather, always wanting to join the fury, feel Gods' power, to be one with mother nature no matter the harshness. Being slight of nerve, though, I have mostly resisted. "Not this day. Proelium, to war!", I screamed, ever so quietly, as not to anger the already angry weather.

I suckled to the warmth of one of my numerous daily mugs of tea, trying to gain the enormous breast of courage it would take for me to venture outside. I drank. I pondered. I drank.

The snow was deep and the wind was howling at me with a laughter I have never heard. "Come join me, if you dare", he seemed to scream!
"Oh, I'm comin'", "proelium", I breathed, ever so shyly into my huge tea mug, hoping it would muffle my eagerness.

While Mother tea worked on my courage, a quelling of energy and passion was fueling my dress. Two pairs of socks, thermals, heavy jeans, overalls, flannel shirt, coat and boots were the uniform of the day. "Layers with a purpose", my mother used to quip.

"Warmth! Warmth is the purpose!", I always replied playfully.

"Do I need a hat? Heck no, I am ready!", I said bravely. "Well, maybe one more mug of tea", I thought, more honestly. "Proelium", I thought quietly to myself, my confidence seemingly diminished.

Tea finished and courage intact, I made my way to the front door. One large oval window framed the dismal theater of nature's fury awaiting me on the other side. "I am not afraid", I mused, knowing all to well the truth.

I placed my hand on the doorknob, turned it gently and reluctantly pushed it open, for, my door opens to the outside, not inward like on most homes. I installed it that way based on a strange notion; a thought, that one should step out and greet the world, not pull the world into himself. Designing life that way was easy for me, living it was not.

There was an accumulation of ice and snow on the front porch that had been swirled by a creeping breeze and deposited directly in front of the door. It was tall and thick enough to slightly block the door's movement. Pressing my body hard against it, I forced the door through the hardened snow.

The wind, that invisible demon, was very strong and seized an extraordinary grip on the door. I fought to hold my position, but, during this struggle I was pulled fully out onto the front porch. If ripping the door from my grasp was it's intent, then shattering the oval glass held within the frame must have been it's pleasure. Of that pleasure, it would not be denied. The shattered glass fell and stuck in the snow around my feet. The odd shapes and angles of the resting glass brought a rush of dark, deadly thoughts to my mind. Most paramount of those thoughts, "That damn wind's trying to kill me"!

"Son-of-a-bitch!" ,I exclaimed. "Could it possibly get any worse?" As I turned to go back inside, my question was abruptly answered. If wind doth be an invisible demon, then Ice must be the devil? Working in conjunction, these two entities can wreak devastating havoc on a soul. And they did!

My feet, virtual mammoths, found no traction. I was being challenged to remain vertical and losing with every passing second. "Ah crap!", I screamed, as it became evident that I would not reap the spoils of a vertical victory, but rather, was steadfastly on my way to feel every unthinkable agony of my own humiliating defeat.

I hit the porch with a brain rattling thump, landing simultaneously on my back and head, causing all the air to be forced from my lungs and my consciousness to be darkened. I was truly knocked out, yet I could still faintly hear the wind "whispering" to me, speaking softly now, bearing no resemblance to that tyrannical force that conspired with that devil ice to break my door and render my body flaccid and freezing. "I rebuke this harmonic duo of wind and ice for calling me ever so gently into another realm", was the last thought I had before losing consciousness!

I woke, cold and stiff. It was night now and the sky was clear and brightened by a beautiful, blue colored moon. The wind was calm and quiet for now. My breathing was shallow and labored. My movements were all but insignificant and extremely painful. "How long was I out", I thought?

I lay there motionless, realizing the grayness of my predicament. "If I don't get inside", I thought, "this grayest of moments will turn into an even darker event".

I attempted to raise myself, but, the back of my head seemed to be frozen to the porch. Reluctantly and painfully, I jerked my neck forward and separated my head from the ice. Mustering all my strength, I rolled onto my stomach, giving me the horrific view of a huge pool of my blood and hair frozen on the snow and ice. The sharp, searing pain on the back of my head coupled with the amount of blood in the snow, alerted me to the massive laceration in the back of my scalp. I reached around to locate the gash, but felt nothing but cold, spongy, congealed blood. "Oh crap", I exclaimed, "I should have worn a hat"!

I began to panic, but calmed myself with the thoughts of getting back into the house.

My lower limbs; nothing but cold, rigid planks, proved to be useless. I was forced to drag my half lifeless lump of a carcass over the ice and through the bloody snow that had accumulated around me.

I slowly made it to the doorway and wearily placed my hand on the door facing. "Thank you God, I'm almost there", I praised.

"No!", screeched the wind, slamming the broken door violently shut, taking great care, of course, to include my frozen fingers. As I instinctively jerked my hand back, I lost my glove. I tried vainly, but could not retrieve it. I did, thankfully retrieve a bloodied, throbbing hand; luckily complete with all its' digits.

Alas, this battle was not over. Wind, along with it's compatriot the devil ice, and I, alone, battered and beaten and left seriously deficient in my physical wherewithal, were locked.

Barely mustering the strength to raise myself to a sitting position, I attempted to open the door. It was stuck. Was it frozen, or wedged shut, I didn't know, but, it was stuck and I was still freezing.

My progress was momentarily stifled, for I hadn't the strength to open the door, let alone to even attempt to crawl through the oval opening in its' upper half. The remaining glass, with my luck and my condition, would not conduce the safest entrance anyway. I lay there freezing. "This cannot be happening!", I shouted loudly.

I could hear the wind howling in laughter. I could feel a frost creeping over me, consuming me. "God, please don't let me die like this", I prayed, "Please get me back into the house".

Perplexed, yet determined, I dragged myself down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk. "Go in through the garage", I thought to myself. I dare not express that thought openly lest those devilish compatriots overhear.

The garage, a mere ten meters from the porch, was proving to be quite the difficult journey. "Make it I must".

The snow, now almost two feet deep, made the endeavor even more challenging. "I do not want this snow, a cousin to that devil ice and friend of the wind, to devour me, leaving my discovery to the thaw".

I clawed my way through the snow and made it to the driveway. "Ice covered with snow, you wily ones, how will I traverse thee? Surely you will make every effort to impede me."

I decided my present proneness made a more sound tactical position; the contrary not being within my arsenal, for I could scarcely feel my legs.

I made my way, rather easily, across the driveway and to the garage door. I could not raise it. "Locked"!

In anger, I hit the garage door with my gloved hand several times. This was the signal, it would seem, for snow to launch it's solitary attack upon me. Falling from the roof, it quickly buried me, entirely.

Frantically, I dug my way out. It was during this battle dance of flailing arms and flying snow, I noticed something important. My legs, I could feel my legs! Warm blood had finally reached my lower extremities. The pain was horrid, but, nevertheless welcomed.

"Could I stand?" "Did I even dare?"

For the moment I decided to stay on my belly. I would use my legs as much as the pain would allow.

My next portal leaving this battle with the elements would have to be my basement window. It is low to the ground and, I think, sufficient in size to easily pass through. "If it's locked, I'll just break the dang window", I thought.

I began my belly slide from the driveway and was immediately impeded by a burst water hydrant that I had neglected to weatherize.

Arcs of ice formed by the spewing water jetted off in multiple directions and formed a massive sheet of ice that covered the ground and ran up half the distance of the wall. Quite beautiful they appeared, shimmering beautifully in the moonlight, but, they were ice and I knew the dangers.

"How do I cross this monster", I mused? Again, prone would be the least dangerous position. My mind, that clever thing, began to take me to a pleasant memory from my childhood. I had watched a documentary about penguins. I remembered how the baby penguins would slide on the ice down these long hills. I remember thinking, "I have nothing to lose but my life". I gripped the edge of the ice as best as I could with the frozen lumps that were once my beautiful hands and gave myself a pull. It was surprisingly easy considering my condition. I slid over the ice with the grace of a beautiful figure skater, one that had just missed a triple jump and face planted herself on this blasted ice that seems hell bent on killing me. My slide was sufficient enough to make it to my basement window. There, I made a grave discovery. The opening was not large enough for me to pass through.

Undeterred, I set out for the back door. I knew it wasn't locked and was very easily opened. A newly installed privacy fence and my back door were the only two things left between myself and the warmth of my fireplace and the taste of that liquid goodness we call tea!

I reached the fence and used it to pull myself up to my feet. Not the strongest position for a man in my condition, but, I could stand. Surely I could walk. "I will not be defeated", I exclaimed boldly, loudly! The wind, hearing my proclamation of defiance, released a banshee like howl that would have made a weaker man cry. At least, that was what I told myself.

I quickly opened the gate and took one shy, shaky step, then I paused. "What carnage lies on the other side?", I wondered.

Surprisingly, the back yard was an entirely different world. The carnage that transpired in the front gave way to nothing but a pale, scarcely audible whisper of wind.

The snow was not as deep here in the back yard, excepting a few drifts. I staggered across them and made it to the back door. As I had hoped, it opened easily. As quickly as I could, I entered inside and slammed the door behind me. "Yes!", I shrieked. I had battled the elements and won! I was battered and bruised, bleeding and almost frozen, but I was victorious! "Adoria", I shouted.

Now, off with my clothes and into the shower! The water stung as it washed the blood from my scalp. It was cold coming from the shower head, but, as it hit my frozen skin, it felt scalding hot. The pain was horrific, but necessary. Down the drain went swirling circles of blood and water, until finally it ran clear.

I assessed my wounds and found my fingers to be heavily bruised and numb, but didn't look broken. I determined my scalp would probably need stitches. I placed the only gauze I had over the wound and then wrapped a bandage around my head.

The closest hospital was five miles away and my condition, not to mention Mother Nature and her family had just kicked the crap out of me, dictated that I should call an ambulance to take me to the ER. After all this, a drive in this weather was a battle I wanted nothing of.

The ambulance was taking forever, so I made busy and covered the broken window in the door with plastic. More importantly though, I fixed myself the most amazing mug of hot tea I have ever tasted. I then settled down in front of my roaring, hot fire and waited.

Both the warmth from the fire and my obviously concussed state were perfectly paired to induce a very dangerous situation. I was very quickly dozing off. I fought as long and hard as I could, but exhaustion prevailed. On the verge, the very periphery of my sleep, I could hear the wind, whispering. Just...whispering, "proelium".


THE END