/lit/ - Literature

>In a drunken haze I slip down the slick snowy hill. "ouch..Must have cut my leg on some buried stump as I fell." I dust myself off and move on deeper into the ravine. "The perfect spot" I think as a walk out onto the outcrop and Gaze down on the frozen stream bellow and up at the beauty of the surrounding wood.

>I sit down against the old oak and pull out the bottle and knock back another drink and think about the times I sat there in that very spot alone with a book or with my pals getting up to no good. I am here alone once again, puffy white flakes fall from the sky around me and dull the vibrations in the air creating an absolutely serene stillness disturbed only by relentless ringing in my ears; Its been a long time since I had heard true silence and I never will again before the end. But here in this still, snow-muffled valley, its about as close to that peace that I will ever get.

>"One more drink for the road." The burning in my throat is about the only part of my body I can feel as the cold penetrates my extremities. I plunge the bottle into the snow beside me, then I sit, as still as the air around me as my shaking comes to halt. my vision is obscured by white-grey blurriness and my consciousness slips away. "Finally, silence."

If it comes to it my plan is to get piss drunk and wander into the nearby wooded area to my favorite spot and die of the cold (becomes more tolerable when you're drunk and gets to like -50 C so it wont take that long)