Imagination

Few days ago, all of sudden I am reminded of a writing I once wrote when I was a kid, seated in elementary.
As long as I can remember it was pretty absurd in certain way that I grew curious of how would it sounded like if I reread it now. I then tried to find where the file is (I remember I typed and saved it in my computer), but I found nothing. Seems like it was lost due to the reformatting that once done upon the hard-disk.

Anyway, I am going to try to recall what I wrote back then. Can't rewrite it for you in the exact words, of course, so I will just describe what it was like and about.

The writing was inferred from my thorough observation upon this two (familiar to you, I believe) pictures.

When I looked at the first picture (Winter Forest, so it is entitled),
I couldn't think about anything but the images of a poor lumberman who was lost between the woods,
wandering hopelessly in order to find his way back to his wooden hut.

I could even imagine the fear he must had been feeling all the time, which turned into distraught. He yearned for warmth he could have been experiencing on that very moment, by sitting in front of the fireplace, which fire was lit from pieces of lumber he had collected and been carrying all along, and had made his back turned quite sore. He had been screaming for help, crying in desperation for quite awhile, until it was too hurtful for his throat to persist on doing such useless effort. No one would have heard him. No one could have been taking a walk deep into the forest in this frosty blizzard.
Indeed, no one.
And then he was there, lying on the snow, wishing so dearly that the suffering caused by the unmercifully cold weather, and, moreover, the thoughts of his dying alone, would soon end.
After a moment or two, he took his last breath away.

....THAT very ridiculous imagination later caused me to experience inexplicable fright and unpleasant sensation each time I look at the picture. I got so emotionally involved with the things I had been imagining. And I turned to dislike the picture very, very much.

The second picture (Blue Mountain) gave no better impression for me.
It seemed like I could hear the howl of the distressed missing man.
I got extremely terrified.

* * *

Sadly now, when I look at those pictures, my mind tells me nothing about this picture, other than the fact that they are merely pictures of random scenery used by Windows as screensaver. I could barely feel the fright I used to own.

...I miss my imagination as a child.