Blizzard

Shards of ice flung themselves relentlessly against Jackson’s face, slicing at the unprotected skin. Cold, uncomfortable slush filled his overly bulky boots to the brim; chunks of snow had wriggled their way into his gloves and down the back of his shirt, freezing him to the core. This battle had been raging for over an hour as Jackson attempted to conquer this stretch of the climb. The last 60 minutes had been a blur of white fury, not letting up enough for Jackson to see more than four feet in front of him.

Beside him, barely visible through the blizzard, dark shapes of members of his crew trudged onwards towards the same destination as him. This was his only guide; one of his partners was the only one who held possession of a compass, and therefore had to lead the rest of them onwards through the snow.

After what seemed like another half an hour of nonstop stomping through a foot of snow, Jackson stopped suddenly. He could hear a low growl in the distance, barely audible over the storm. Somewhere between a wolf's howl and snarl, the sound sent violent shivers down Jackson’s spine like no amount of ice ever could.

After waiting for a minute and not hearing the noise again, Jackson decided that it had merely been his imagination; his mind often played tricks on him when it was late. But after scanning the area around him, his crew was nowhere to be seen.

Panicking, Jackson began to scramble in the direction he assumed his friends were traveling. To his horror, Jackson heard the same low growl, this time cleary coming from behind him. This panicked him even more, and Jackson started to attempt to sprint through the snow.

Ahead of him, he spotted another obstacle; a huge crevice that had split the frozen landscape in two. Skidding to a stop, Jackson peeked over the edge.

Below him lay a seemingly endless pit; a fall down it would surely mean an untimely demise.

Slowly, Jackson turned around. And standing right in front of him was the silhouette of the most terrifying creature Jackson had ever seen. Behind it, Jackson could see the firey outline that surely was the entrance to hell.

“Come back inside” Jackson’s mom called from the front porch of their house.

“And what was Buddy growling at?”

“I have nooo idea” Jackson sighed.

Defeated and tired, seven year old Jackson said goodbye to his friends, stepped off the snowbank, over the pit they had shovelled out, and into the warm and inviting living room.