It’s night now. The sun has set some time ago—now there is nothing but the darkness, and my fears.

But still it’s snowing. White flakes are falling from the heavens—

Invisibly, silently, accusingly—

Drifting down from the sky and landing on the frozen ground, where a thousand other snowflakes have fallen and died—

It’s quiet here, but for the howl of icy wind that rushes past my tear-streaked face, not knowing, not caring about the boy lying in the snow.

I can’t feel my legs anymore, but it doesn’t matter. I know it’s crazy but now I feel warm, comfortable, safe.

And I can’t help thinking, this is the way people freeze to death.

I cling weakly to the fuzzy, distant memory of hot chocolate, warm hugs, the sound of Mom and Dad’s soft whispers in the night. But deep down, I know those days are long gone. And I can’t fight the reality of the last smoldering embers of the ruined buildings that surround me.

Instead I lie here in the snow, just waiting, waiting, waiting…

For a savior that will never come.

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