Winter Fell (JOURNAL ENTRY)

 January 17, 2022

Photo by Mariusz Gandzel

    Today has been a dizzy blur. 

    My bare feet press against the frigid window pane as I level my eyes with another paragraph. The snow bustles and blows around me as Winterfell drags me into its tundra landscape. I barely even notice the gentle hum of music playing as I move from Winterfell to the Red Keep, watching Arya chase cats throughout the marvelous castle. Her groans and yells of frustration are amusing to say the least as I walk tirelessly next to her.

    I am a transparent Watcher of Worlds sitting on the jawbone of an ancient dragon who died long ago as the young girl before me dances and flees from her pursuers. Arya moves like liquid, slipping through every possible escape route she can find as she tears through the dungeons of the Keep. 

    The cold of the glass shocks me from my trance for a moment. Hesitantly, I lift my head to gaze out the large frost speckled windows from my cozy plush chair, a cup of forgotten tea sits on the table to my right. The tundra landscape of Winterfell blends with reality as I watch billions of fluffy snowflakes fall from the grey sky, coating the roads in a thick white blanket.

    I pause.

    Although winter sits just beyond the glass, the unimaginable great wall of ice is nowhere to be found in this place, nor the wild people beyond it. No, there are no dire wolves here, no great stags, roaring lions, or rearing dragons to be seen in this place. There are no hateful princes, lazy kings, deceptive queens, or wise dwarves outside my window. 

    I reach slowly and change my music to ease the buzzing in my brain as I sink back into my chosen reality. I sit silently against the dark wall, a second imperceptible shadow beside Arya as she watches two men pass with an intensity and dread far too great for a girl so young. Her breath holds as the men march onwards and she slips silently behind them.

I am a Watcher of Worlds.