Snow

Snow

The boys eyes shoot open. He glances around the room. It is dark, darker than it should be. An orange tint filters through a blind covering the window. The boy knows what has happened. A catastrophic event, one that will permanently alter this child. He grins as he dashes to his door, the cold biting into the exposed skin of his legs and feet. The door is quietly opened, this is now a time for stealth, lest he wake the slumbering beast next door. He furtively creeps down the hall, dreading making too much noise. The boy hears it, the omen of safety, the quiet droll of the morning news. He flies through the door, the question out of his mouth before the words had been thought,

“Is it closed?” The boys parents, with barely constrained excitement, apologise,

“No it isn’t, Pat.” The boy sighs and begins to walk away as his parents begin to laugh.

“We are only teasing you, of course school is closed today.” The boys face lights up and he runs back into his room to prepare himself for the coming experience. Later in the day, once he has been sure to rouse all in his family, they trek outside into the blinding wonderland. The boy sees a white wall, it rises to his chin in parts, and his eyes in others. Without thinking he attempts to clamber into the wall and due more to his small frame than any trace of agility, is able to crawl to the top, sinking to his waist at the peak. His mother laughs as his brother is carried to the street. His father returns for him.

They start to walk down the street, towards a friend’s home. The boy and his brother stare in awe at the wide hallway they now walk down, talking and expressing their total happiness, they pay no attention to the conversation of their parents. “I’m glad you reminded me to go to the store and get food and some beer.” The boys brother pushed him into a soft, but solid wall. “Did you get any eggs?” The boy lunges at his brother with two fists of snow. “Yes I will cook them when I get home.” His brother again pushes him back into the wall before being gently pushed to the other side of his parents. They have arrived at their destination.

In front of them, spanning the entire front and side yards lies a maze of bumps. Like sand dunes in the desert. Out of a large mound appears a head, that of Mr. Nemie.

“Hey guys! Check out what we made!” The boys parents again laugh as he and his brother rush forward to search for the entrance to the palace of ice. They spend some time crawling through as Mr. Nemie explains it’s construction to them. Outside, they hear their mother say something about getting home for breakfast, and realizing how hungry they were began the arduous trek back to their home. Once again the boys paid no mind to their parents shocked conversation about the sudden calmed storm, instead opting to continue their civil war. Once home their mother asks for picture in the pristine backyard, In response his father throws the boys brother as far into the lawn as he can.

“My turn!” The boy exclaims and is promptly lifted into the air. The boy felt like the tallest person in the world at that point, then he felt the alien and wondrous feeling of being weightless. Soaring for the briefest of moments before he crashed to the earth. Unfortunately, during his flight the boy had shifted his weight and had spilled head first into the snow. Now he sees nothing at all, hears nothing but his own desperate pleas for help, feels the cold cutting deep into his face and neck, smells the bitter-crisp burn of cold and ice. He desperately flails his legs and arms, unable to get a good enough angle to pull himself out, he panics.

Thoughts race through his head of what he learned to do to survive an avalanche, “press a pocket in front of your face so you can get air,” unable to reach his face he presses his head forward, shooting snow down his nostrils and into his eyes, but succeeding in his objective to clear a space. “spit to ensure you know which way is up, so you know which way to dig.” The boy realizes that he knows very well that he is facing down, with up being below him and feels no reason to spit to confirm this fact. He grows more concerned as he realizes that these precautions will not help him escape his current peril, and doubts that they would be any more useful in an actual avalanche. He realizes that he has no option but to try to get more air into his pocket to prevent suffocation and hope someone comes to save him, and promptly begins widening the pouch.

Suddenly the boy feels something grip his ankle, then sees the blinding white of the above world. He gasps and yells. The boy has been saved from mortal danger, welcomed back to the living world by his families uproarious laughter. Once he has calmed down he thinks back on the situation, seeing himself kicking and screaming in the snow, and begins to laugh to himself, understanding how ridiculous a sight he truly was. Realizing that there is the rest of the day to enjoy the world around him, he retreats back into his home with his family to wait for breakfast to be cooked.