The Writers' Circle

Nothing more than a short stand alone piece.
Enjoy.

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It must have been half an hour or more since he had lost sight of the path, the wind and snow lashed down hard against his face, white noising the forests natural sounds as he stumbled blindly on.
The trees blocked his path and his shoulder bounced harshly against branches and trunks alike.
The snow that had slowly soaked into his clothing and his skin was added to by the cutting cold wind that ripped into him.
He felt the slow toothache pain at the back of his head where the chill had been forced deep into the bone.
"Need rest, must sleep, must get warm", he thought to himself, finding it hard to think clearly. "Need to sleep."
But the brain kicked in and tried to resist, "IF YOU STOP NOW YOU DIE, KEEP MOVING" 
So on he went, pulling on energy reserves he didn't know he had, forcing him to keep moving forward.
The thoughts of his warm bed came unbidden to his mind, how on cold wet nights he would like to lie there, listening to the sound of the weather outside while he was warm and comfortable wrapped in his quilt. Just resting, possibly with a hot tea while reading a book, the soft glow of the bedside light on the pages as he turned them, he found himself smiling to himself at the thought.
"Rest, sleep, stop now and rest, curl up and sleep" He staggered and fell, dirty water splashed onto his face, tasting the winter forest in his mouth as he spat mud from his lips.
"DON'T STOP, GET UP AND KEEP MOVING, IF YOU STOP YOU DIE" his brain screamed at him.
Almost weeping he scrambled to his feet, pulling himself upright on a nearby tree branch, the sensation of the bark on his hands feeling strangely comforting as it cut into his palm, something he could focus his cold mind on. Letting go he moved on into the dark and cold forest.
Moving, step by painful step he kept going, the wind whipped a branch and it slapped sharply across his face, by instinct alone he shut his eyes before they hit and saved himself from blindness, ended up with only three welts across his face, the pain was fresh and real, wiping the tears from his eyes he moved on, head down to deflect what wind and snow he could.
A warm bath, deep and hot, something to soak his feet and his aching back in, rested and clean, the bubbles slowly sloshing round him as he moved in the water.
A glass of red wine by his side and soft music playing on his stereo, he relaxed a little deeper into the water, deeper, warmer.
"GET UP, GET UP OR DIE WHERE YOU LIE" the voices screamed loudly, pulling him back to consciousness.
He must have fallen again, almost losing himself to the cold and wet of the night,  his hands burnt with the cold, with the false heat of the snow against his frozen numb fingers, the cold snow and the biting wind freezing his soul to the bone.
He was so underdressed for this, with his thin cotton work shirt sitting uselessly on his back, his light pinstripe trousers and patent leather shoes, he was cold wet and slipping, no grip from his shoes which fitted the office better than a forest, his trousers stuck to his legs as they absorbed the snow as the wind pushed the sodden material against his warmer legs.
The wind howled through the branches, whooping and laughing as it came, enjoying the dance it made as it passed him, he stopped, he thought he could hear voices in the wind, almost stopping almost giving up the voice returned "STOP AND DIE, KEEP MOVING DON'T STOP" louder for the moment than the other voice which whispered sweetly "sleep, rest, relax and lie down".
Suddenly the ground gave way and he fell, grabbing a spruce branch as his feet slipped away below him, he screamed as he held himself above the crevasse, above a drop in the dark which could be three feet or 300.
His arms burnt as he pulled himself up the few precious feet so he could gain a purchase, feeling the sharp branches as they cut into his hands, almost enjoying the warmth the blood gave as it oozed from his frozen fingers, before he managed to pull himself to safety. 
Blood seeped from his elbows as he grunted and heaved himself up. Resting on his side for a moment the voices returned.
"Give up, you have tried, there is no shame for failure after what you have gone through, everyone will understand that you stopped, rest and sleep, rest.."
Pushing his head into the soft moss, he felt the comfort as it rubbed against his cheeks and felt his breath warm his face, his eyes closed against the floor as he felt the darkness of the night slipping away below him, "rest now, rest and sleep".

"NO" 
He pushed his head above the ground and the wind bit into his blistered cheeks.
"NO" I will not die here he screamed,
"GET UP" with super human strength he pushed against the floor and staggered to an upright position.
"GET UP AND GET HOME KEEP GOING" the voices in his head screamed at him to keep moving.
He staggered forward, the branches slapped against his arms and legs as he pushed his way onwards, down hill, keep going down hill. 
He thought back to his job, working quietly in the billing department of a small business, the mundane existence that he hated then, he craved for now.
The tedium of each day, sat at his desk raising bills for people he never saw to make the company he worked for more profit.
The boring conversations he had with his peers about their lives or their weekend or families.
His mock laughter at their boring jokes all sounded so nice now, so under valued.
If only he had accepted his position and not tried for more, if only he hadn't wanted to taste the good life just once.
He staggered as his foot dropped between two rocks, his shoe slipped on the moss and he almost dropped backwards, but he held his own and continued down as his blood raced to keep up.
 "stop and rest, close your eyes and rest"
"NO"
The pressures continued to increase, the wind howled in his ears and the cold wind stung his eyes as he raised them to see ahead of him.
He looked over his shoulder to see how far he had come but all was lost in the darkness of the night. In the distance lights broke between the trees bobbing against the black of the night, a twisted promises of safety and warmth.
"Give in to the light, stop and let them come to you, rest", his thoughts changed to a summer long gone, he was topless, lying on the beach in the sun.
The waves lapped softly against the shore and the air smelt fresh and clear. He was many years younger then, with high ideas and nothing to stop him reaching for the starts, nothing to stop him winning anything he wanted for himself. The world was open to him, uninhibited, everything was achievable.
"NO, NO, NO STOP" he raised his head and lifted himself up once more.
He  slipping and tumbling down the hill, his arm hit a tree and he felt the heat flash into his mind as the bone broke. But he was too cold to scream anymore.
"ENOUGH NOW, STOP, YOU CANT GO ON"
"No, keep moving"
"REST, REST AND SLEEP, YOUR ARM IS BROKEN, YOU TRIED, YOU TRIED SO HARD, REST NOW, SLEEP, YOU CAN ALWAYS TRY AGAIN LATER"
"Death, death awaits you don't give up."
"SHUSH, SHUSH NOW, DON'T FEAR"

Suddenly his vision brightened as a torch was directed at him.
"You gave us quite the chase Mr Donaldson," the figure behind the light shouted above the wind.
"But not far enough, you were told to pay the money you owe us, or pay the consequences, you wouldn't listen, you tired to gamble again, tried to win but all you did was lose deeper, it's a little late now of course"
In the dark of the night, from wind blinded eyes and between the tears or resignation, he watched the pistol levelled at his head.
"REST NOW, YOU TRIED YOU BEST"...