The Girl in the Snow

Walking down the long winding road, a lonely, sad girl saw the snow. It came in a flurry, covering the road, and made her freeze. She hadn't seen snow since he died. Her father. Not a man named He. Her breath caught in her throat, and a slight strangled noise escaped her lips. Not today.

When the girl reached the front door, she paused for a second. Her mother was inside, probably staring out the window blankly. She couldn't let her mother see the snow. The girl walked inside and saw her mom on the ground. Strange. She usually sleeps in a bed. The girl picked up her mother and carried her to the couch. The girl screamed—again.

It sounded like it came out of an animal's mouth. He was sitting on the couch—not a man named He, but the girl's father. Her father was sitting on the sofa with a blank stare and a blood stain on his white shirt. She placed her mother on a chair beside the couch and then ran. 

When she opened the front door, the one she had just walked in, she walked right into a wall of snow. The girl was scared. But did not scream. She shivered and made a wide arc around her mother and father to the side door—the same thing. Was the snow following her? The girl was trapped. She rushed into her bedroom, collapsing on the bed and resting her head for the first time in days.

The girl's head flew up. She was in her room. Not with her dead family. It was just another dream. Again. She walked to the couch. Nothing. She walked to the side door and opened it. There was snow—lots of it.

The girl stared as a wall of snow collapsed on her. She stumbled backward, it felt like for hours, and fell onto the couch. There was something under her. Someone under her. It was the girl's mom. The girl jumped up with shock on her face. Her mother? Her mom sat up and stared at her as if she were a stranger—maybe the girl was. The girl's mother turned pale and started talking, but no sound came out. The girl couldn't take it anymore.

So she ran. She ran through the side door, through the snow, and onto the long, winding road. She ran, then fell and wept. It felt like forever, crying on the snowy ground and falling into the abyss of her own mind.

The girl sat up with tears streaming down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes and saw where she was. In her room. In her bed. It must have been a dream. She looked at the window on her wall. There were blinds. Strange. She had never seen blinds on those windows before. The girl climbed out of bed, walked to the mysterious blinds, pushed them back—and screamed again. Looking out of the window, she saw something. It was snow. Lots of it. But that was not the only thing. He was there. Not a man named he, but the girl's father. Her father was staring at something.

Not at the girl but at the girl's mother. Her mother stared blankly back as if trying to get away. Trying to get away from the pain of him. The girl closed the blinds, blocking out all images she saw through the window. The girl climbed into bed. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

There was a noise. Strange. There was usually no noise. The girl opened her eyes and looked around. She was floating. Floating away in water. But how? She could not even swim. Confused, the girl closed her eyes and let the current sweep her away. 

The water felt nice for a while, floating into nothingness. But then it changed. It went from warm and comfortable to hard and jagged like rocks. The girl opened her eyes and was no longer floating but lying on the ground of the long, winding road. And suddenly, the girl was in a hail storm that pelted her. The girl curled up, soaking in all the pain, falling deeper into her own mind.

There was a beep. But not a normal one. A beep that was long and sad. One that sounded like giving up. The girl opened her eyes. She was in her room. It was only a dream. But everything was different. Her room had the same windows, but that's where the similarities ended. The room was white and sterile, the bed uncomfortable, and there were many people. All different people were wearing gowns, some using walkers, others coughing, some with bandages on their heads, and a few missing limbs. Nothing made sense, at least not to the girl. And then she noticed a tube, connected to her arm on one side, with a bag of fluid on the other, emitting a beeping noise. The girl looked down at her other arm. It was gone. Or not moving? She couldn't tell. Everything was going blurry. She noticed with her peripheral vision that someone was injecting another liquid into the plastic bag next to her, and she fell into a deep sleep that had never come faster and with more relief than now. 

There was laughter—strange. The girl had never laughed before and was with someone—a man? A woman? She did not know. Then the laughing stopped, and she could finally see. She was on the long, winding road. That brought back memories. But were they good or bad? Who were they about? Were the memories about the person she was laughing with? But where is the person? The girl had forgotten about the person. She looked behind her and screamed. Again. It was him and her. Not a man named him and a woman named her, but her parents. They were laughing at the girl, not with her. The girl felt like she was getting smaller like the world was falling apart more and more. So the girl did the only thing she knew to do. She ran. She ran on the long winding road until she couldn't anymore and then fell and wept. She wept, felt the snow on her back slowly enveloping her, and finally gave in.