The Silence

I see home in the distance—not so far now. Today is beautiful. The snow crunches noisily beneath my feet, daring to wake the silent slumber of winter. My parka hugs me—thick, safe, familiar, a friend. My breath clouds before my eyes. Yet, the sun feels warm on my skin. I am cold and warm at once. I could walk forever.

Closer now. Almost home.

A perfect day for a walk. I step, I slip—the ice has been kissed by the sun. Odd for the deep of winter, but I welcome it. Sliding is almost fun—I glide, light on my feet.

Snick. What was that? Crackle. Again.
A low, throaty growl from beneath. My stomach knots. I know that sound.
Rumble. A shift underneath me, welcomes me, wanting to devour.
I freeze. I cannot stay here. I cannot move. My breath no longer shows. Am I breathing?

Home, close—just a breath away—suddenly so far.

The sun vanishes. The world plunges into darkness.
The cold stabbing. My parka, my friend, pulls me down.
I reach—reach—for the light, for warmth, long for the sun on my face. But it pulls away. How long since the sun.

No. No, please. Come back. This isn’t— Why?
Cold. So cold. I just—the world has gone silent.

Home feels so warm.