A boy walks alone in the snow.
It is dark, and he feels cold.
Disoriented.
His boots crunch softly beneath him as he stumbles through the frozen haze, lit only by the dim glow of the moon.
"Mother? Father?" he calls out, voice thin in the air. "Where are you?"
His heart races. The silence stretches.
What happened? Where are we? What's going on?
He wipes the snow from his brow, eyes stinging. His breath curls around him like smoke.
He keeps walking, deeper into the endless white, calling for the only voices that ever made him feel safe. Then—
Snap.
A twig breaks behind him.
A bird takes off, wings flapping frantically.
He spins. "Who's there?"
No answer.
He shivers and turns forward again—
—and freezes.
Something presses against his shoulder.
Cold. Almost like a hand.
Then, pain. Sudden and sharp, stabbing into him like a blade.
He screams and turns, frantic—
But no one is there.
Only snow.
Only silence.
The pain lingers, phantom and burning.
"Mommy! Daddy!" he cries. "Please, I need you!"
He runs now, blindly—
—and trips.
He crashes face-first into the snow. Gasping, he scrambles to his knees and looks behind him.
There's something beneath the snow.
Something solid.
He brushes it away—slow at first, then frantically.
Flesh. Skin.
A face.
His mother.
Her eyes are frozen open, her skin pale, locked in time beneath the ice.
"MOMMY!" he shrieks, the sound echoing across the empty night.
Then—he sees her hand. Outstretched. Clinging to something.
He brushes more snow away.
Another hand.
Larger. Rougher.
His father's.
"No, no, no," he whimpers, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please—"
But then the pain returns.
Worse this time. Deeper. Twisting.
A boy walks alone in the snow.
It is dark, and he feels cold.
Disoriented.
His boots crunch softly beneath him as he stumbles through the frozen haze, lit only by the dim glow of the moon.
"Mother? Father?" he calls out, voice thin in the air. "Where are you?"
His heart races. The silence stretches.
What happened? Where are we? What's going on?
He wipes the snow from his brow, eyes stinging. His breath curls around him like smoke.
He keeps walking, deeper into the endless white, calling for the only voices that ever made him feel safe. Then—
Snap.
A twig breaks behind him.
A bird takes off, wings flapping frantically.
He spins. "Who's there?"
No answer.
He shivers and turns forward again—
—and freezes.
Something presses against his shoulder.
Cold. Almost like a hand.
Then, pain. Sudden and sharp, stabbing into him like a blade.
He screams and turns, frantic—
But no one is there.
Only snow.
Only silence.
The pain lingers, phantom and burning.
"Mommy! Daddy!" he cries. "Please, I need you!"
He runs now, blindly—
—and trips.
He crashes face-first into the snow. Gasping, he scrambles to his knees and looks behind him.
There's something beneath the snow.
Something solid.
He brushes it away—slow at first, then frantically.
Flesh. Skin.
A face.
His mother.
Her eyes are frozen open, her skin pale, locked in time beneath the ice.
"MOMMY!" he shrieks, the sound echoing across the empty night.
Then—he sees her hand. Outstretched. Clinging to something.
He brushes more snow away.
Another hand.
Larger. Rougher.
His father's.
"No, no, no," he whimpers, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please—"
But then the pain returns.
Worse this time. Deeper. Twisting.
He screams and collapses between their hands, gripping his back, gasping for air.
Tears stream down his face.
Through blurry eyes, he sees it.
A figure.
Tall. Shadowy. Watching him.
It stands just out of reach. Just far enough to be real—or not.
He can't scream anymore. His breath fogs, shallow.
Snow begins to fall again.
His vision fades to blue and red flashes. Then—darkness.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The boy snaps upward with a gasp, drenched in sweat.
Fluorescent lights burn above him.
He's in a hospital bed.
Panic floods him as strangers in white coats rush in.
"You're awake," a voice says. "Please calm down. You're in the hospital. You're safe."
He shakes, voice cracking. "Where are my paren—"
"Son!" another voice cries out.
His father.
The boy sobs. "You're okay! But where's mo—"
"I'm right here, sweetie."
His mother wraps her arms around him, crying. "I'm so sorry. I should've caught you."
They explain:
He'd gone to the park with them that morning to play in the snow.
He climbed to the top of the jungle gym and slipped.
Beneath the snow was a rusted piece of broken equipment.
It bruised his spine and gave him a mild concussion when he hit his head.
The doctor tells them he's lucky.
They hand over paperwork, care instructions.
Later, as they leave the hospital and head for the car, his father says, "Tomorrow, we're taking it easy. Movies and ice cream. Deal?"
The boy grins. "Maybe I should get hurt more often!"
His mother glares at them both. "Don't you dare joke like that."
They drive.
The boy stares out the window, watching snowflakes drift down onto the trees.
Then—
Something.
A shadow.
Standing in the woods. Watching.
Still.
He leans forward, eyes narrowing.
Then—
HOOOONK.
His father's scream.
A blinding flash.
The car swerves. Metal screams. Then—darkness.
He wakes.
Alone.
In the car. Empty.
The door creaks open. He stumbles out.
"Mom?"
"Dad?"
Snow falls softly. Moonlight glimmers off the frozen trees.
A boy walks alone in the snow.
It is dark, and he feels cold.