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sea of fog

Ayla

Darkness surrounds me as I hike the unseen mountain trail. The only sounds besides my breathing and the crunch of my hiking boots on the cold earth are the leaves dancing in the wind like aggressive yellow butterflies and whatever scurries along the ground below them.

I make my way to the ridge and slide my pack off my shoulders, setting my thermos down and unloading my equipment.

Tripods set, I pour a cup of delicious coffee into the thermos lid and sit back against the rocks to wait. Fiddling with the remote sensor on my phone and setting it for the correct time to do its thing, I slide it into my back pocket.

In another world, I could be a sniper. I can appreciate their calling, the solitary job of watching and waiting. Always in place early, left killing time until others arrive. Never enough sleep, haunting silence, and the utmost patience… The courage and perseverance to remain.

Except “point and shoot” has a wholly different meaning for me. While timing for me is critical, I can afford to be less precise.

My heart soars as it does most early mornings like this as pinks and golds peek over the horizon. The colors engage me like music would a dancer. I feel them, watch them, experience them swell in melody.

But it’s the harmonies the shadows bring that move me.

I return to my bag and pull out my thirty-five millimeter—my oldest and still my favorite baby—and adjust the settings before changing out one of the SLRs for it on a tripod.

I stare out over the cliff face and into the majesty of the Rocky Mountains. I grew up in their shadow, but I can’t bring myself to take for granted the beauty in my backyard.

Within minutes, the golden sun will reflect off the silver snowcaps of the fourteeners before me. Their majesty takes my breath away. The layer of clouds between the peaks and the valley below makes them look ethereal, as if they’ve risen from the sea of fog like gods before their charges.

“What are you doing up here?” The gruff voice scares me just as a twig snaps underfoot.

I jolt and bump into the left tripod, knocking one of its legs askew, pissed it’s no longer level with the horizon.

That mistake will ruin what surely would’ve been a stunning shot if I can’t get it fixed in time.

And this man, whose voice slithers over my skin, won’t allow himself to be denied. He never could.

I whirl around, not wanting him here with me.

Not in my safe place.Of course he’d invade that too. It’s always about him.

“I’m talking to you, Ayla.”

I look up into eyes as familiar as my own. Striking ones. Ones that have seen me cry, ones that have watched me laugh, ones that know my greatest fears and my hidden weaknesses. Those eyes bore into me and see through my lies.

“I’m doing my job.”

“You don’t need a job. You know that.”

“Needing and wanting are two different things. I love what I do, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon.” Casually, I slide my hand into my back jeans pocket and press the side button. I won’t give away that my phone is there if I need it.

“You have money. We have money.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“And you know how I feel about you up here alone. In the dark. It’s not safe. Not with the shadows that lurk around us. ”

“The shadows aren’t in shape to make the hike, not with the incline or at this elevation, and most won’t lose their precious sleep to find me before six in the morning an hour away from home.”

“This isn’t up for debate. Just do what I told you to.” His eyes go hard. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Don’t make me remind you that I don’t take direction from you. I don’t need your permission to live how I choose.” My voice doesn’t have the authority I want when I stand against him. It never has.

His eyes go hard, and his face twists into a sneer.

It’s the only warning I have before the back of his hand crashes down against my cheek, wrenching my head to the side and throwing my body backwards from the force of its momentum.

My arms flail, my phone flies, and I tumble over the ledge, watching my favorite film camera follow behind me.

The boulder flies up to meet my temple just as I hear his anguished voice scream my name.

“Ayla!”