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The Ring
Late night city streets were the perfect backdrop for a marvelous night. My fuzzy scarf rubbing against my neck, I breathed into the wintry air, watching my breath drift away into the abyss that was the midnight sky. Light fixtures on the tip top of telephone poles lit up slick and mean-looking patches of ice that glazed the lonely streets. Cracks in the sidewalk were lined with snow, compressed by the many trampling and pounding feet that had passed this way. The air was cold and clear as a crystal, as if the very souls of ghosts were drifting in the sky, silenced forever.
The silence was eerie. I could imagine wraiths peeking out from behind garbage bins, flashing me their silvery smiles as falling snowflakes passed right through them. I was headed toward my favorite cafe to grab some hot cocoa. Just the prospect of the rich, chocolatey liquid, steaming and topped with a puff of whipped cream and curls of shredded chocolate made my feet move faster. I tried not to slip on the black ice that coated my path. Note to self: do not wear Converse in snow.
Suddenly I saw a flash of movement in the corner of my eye. I whirled around, leaping into a ready battle stance. I scanned the roadway and the silent alley. The nighttime shadows had concealed my enemies. But I knew better.
I reached a gloved hand inside my coat pocket and felt a small, round, smooth object. I pulled it out and stared at it. The golden ring caught the light of the grubby streetlamps, its strange, slanted lettering in silver sparkling in the yellow light. I pulled of a glove and slid the ring onto my finger. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the runes began to glow, burning and flaring like fire, brilliant against the darkness. Then, like tendrils of windblown smoke, they peeled away from the ring and sailed away on the wind, still burning brightly like fire against the black sky.
I smiled and continued on myy way, feeling newfound confidence flooding my veins.
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