Autumn: a Magician

An excerpt from my WIP:

I stare up at the sky, the chilly clouds covering the afternoon sun. Leaves in bright reds and yellows follow my steps, falling. Always falling, twirling in the breeze so elegantly before reaching their tragic deaths on the pavement. My shoes crunch dead leaves that have lost all color, shriveled corpses on a battlefield against the wind.

Autumn, itself, is a beautiful season for the senses, filled with glorious colours and perfect temperatures. Not steaming like a summer day, nor freezing like a winter night. Just the right amount of wind, without stealing all a person’s warmth. The wind tastes just right, cool and refreshing as it blows in my face, bringing with it the crisp scent of winter. Just the right amount of clothes, simple sweaters and jackets, light scarfs and hats, fashionable boots and sneakers, for the ideal level of comfort.

Nonetheless, I despise autumn, this season of fake beauty that underlies its hidden truth. Like a magician, it displays its beautiful show of dazzling colours and enchantments, but underneath it all, there is an ugly reality. Everything is dying in autumn, slowly but surely. The mighty trees, the plentiful grass, the lovely flowers, are all dying as winter creeps closer each day. The birds fly in their classic V formation as they migrate, and the squirrels hunt for acorns to hoard for hibernation. All to prevent death for one more year, if fate is on their side.

Here I am, the embodiment of autumn and all its wickedness, though I look simply human.