A trumpeting sound

Pixabay image by Marianne Sopala

Snow continued to fall. It wasn’t going to let up any time soon. I stood still. Had I entered the spirit realm? My grandfather told me we each had an animal spirit. And mine was the elephant.

I saw the elephant at the tree. So, how is it possible I saw me looking at the elephant. I didn’t pay much attention when my grandfather told me stories of the spirit realm and the animal spirit. Now, here I was and he wasn’t.

Elephants had thick hides, yes? Yet, I felt the cold biting through my thick hide. The falling snow landed on my broad back. I shivered.

I shivered again. Was that goosebump chills or the winter cold? It would be dark soon and I was still miles from home. How did the elephant and I become one?

And to add to the weird stuff, there was a tiny house stuck to the trunk of a tree. I started to laugh, for I had a trunk stuck to my face. But all that came out was a trumpeting sound. Oh dear!

And as darkness covered the land, I saw mice emerged from the roof of that tiny house. I hate mice, I hate rodents. Grandpa! I screamed. Get me out of this spirit realm. All I heard was a trumpeting sound. And the trumpet of screams continued.

By C.E. Pereira
(5-2-2019)

This is written for February’s Speculative Fiction Prompt hosted by D. Wallace Peach at Myths of the Mirror