By Adam McCluskey

It was a wintry night when they left you. 

You did not lack for companions, yet few would consider the thunderous gales and threat of frostbite to be good friends. What had once been a sanctuary of warmth had turned to a dilapidated ruin, its remaining rubble providing a progressively inadequate shelter. You knew its time had passed when the roof finally caved in under the weight of the elements, yet still you remained cocooned beneath the remains of a bygone age.

The warm memories that once enveloped this place had long since turned to dust, replaced by an ever-present desire – nay, need – to have it all stop. The cold snapped at your heels, nipped at the ends of your fingers and toes, even froze your tears before they had the chance to roll down your cheeks. What should have been confined to the depths of the worst nightmare had become your reality. 

The horror was all-encompassing, so wretched it drove away any fantasies of a life outside of the storm. Your life, once full of warmth and joy and what-not, could barely even be recalled amidst the frigid weather and piercing winds. You lay there, wishing for it to end, yet the storm simply grew in intensity.

It was tempting to remain. Actually, you felt compelled to remain. Perhaps this torture was deserved, you thought. After all, if you had left before the cold had begun to seep in then you would never have suffered such a fate. Perhaps this pain was your own fault. Perhaps it was intended for you.

It took considerable effort to push against such assumptions. You might not have shook off such doubts, but you refused to let yourself be buried. So up you stood, gusts of wind blasting against you, and set off somewhere.

What was once a gloriously vibrant and colourful town was consumed by the storm. Rosy pinks and cerulean blues were swept away, replaced with a cruel and bitter white. The inhabitants were no exception, leaving you entirely alone in the unsympathetic cold, your hope for relief growing increasingly more distant. 

Yet you pressed on regardless. Dark thoughts compelled you to give up, to allow yourself to lie down in the snow and be enveloped like the landscape around you, but for days you carried forth. But the temptation grew. You began to lay down.

Then someone offered a hand.