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Description
Prologue

When I first came here, I loved the snow. It was bright and bathed the town with a white glow. I thought it was cheerful. Little did I know it was an omen.

The trees grew darker with each second going by. Snow continued to fall and the wind was beginning to kick up. A street light flickered and went out, leaving the road I was on even more eerie.

You could consider this a road, even though it was covered with seven inches of snow and wasn’t paved. None of the “roads” were paved in Sulver. There wasn’t enough money for that, not enough people for it to matter either.

Ahead there was a fork, I had a decision to make. Take the more traveled road on the left, or head to the graveyard on the right. It’s funny how when I first came here I would have done anything to stay on the lighted and traveled roads. I set my sights on the right.

In a normal town, maybe, normal people would be sitting by their fires and enjoying a nice cup of hot cocoa. But of course, this wasn’t a normal town and these sure weren’t normal people. Even I, for one, am not a normal person. Maybe this town’s eccentric attitude rubs off on you. Normal people don’t have to drag themselves across the snow to get away from something so terrifying that dying alone in the snowy woods would be a gift. But, who knows what normal is anyways?

I still wish I never came here. I realized through the course of my life that I don’t change my mind easily. Once I make my decision it stays unless a person, like him, would convince me to change. I was close to changing my mind. Until now.

After all that I’ve been through I still wish that my grandparents were still living in their little white house with me like a ghost by their sides. I wish that was how it was but I don’t get a normal life, I don’t deserve one. I’ll die here, in the cold, in the darkness, in the snow, in my only chance at heaven.

A storm drain is up ahead. The bars would be nice to pull myself across. My hands are bleeding. I feel the sour ache in my muscles as the strain to keep going. I can’t feel my left leg. I think it’s my left. No, it’s my right. I’m dying. My body can’t take this. I just need to get away. I reach to grab the bars across the storm drain, they’re so cold. It seems like I’m reaching for a cold death. It’s all so cold. Not even a coat, well, now a ripped coat, could keep me warm. A warm, sticky droplet falls down my skin. I can’t even tell it it’s blood or tears.

A hand wraps around my wrist. I jerk back with all the strength I can muster but it isn’t enough. The hand is hot against my freezing wrist but its lock makes me want to cry out in pain. I look down. Looking up at me is a boy I thought I knew and a man sworn to follow orders. They are the same person. His dark brown hair is tousled and wet from the snow, it looks black. His hand, wrapped around my wrist, is red. His other hand is pushed against the inside of the storm drain, the same with his feet. But most alarming are his eyes, a once calm shade of green now glows with an angry red-hot intensity. His grip tightens as he looks up at me. His mouth moves from a frown to a tight smile. A smile that brings me fear. He drops my hand and pushes off the top of the storm drain with little effort. It falls on the snow and compacts it as he pushes himself out of the drain. He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He stands straight up, at least a foot taller than me. I collapse, my leg crumbles beneath me. His arm keeps a tight hold on my wrist as I feel a tight pain in my arm. He looks down at me, a stony expression on his face. Tears stain mine.

“Ian, please..” I say as I try to pull my hand out of his steel hard grip. He looks down at me, his stony expression, his eyes blank. It’s over.

Description
Prologue

When I first came here, I loved the snow. It was bright and bathed the town with a white glow. I thought it was cheerful. Little did I know it was an omen.

The trees grew darker with each second going by. Snow continued to fall and the wind was beginning to kick up. A street light flickered and went out, leaving the road I was on even more eerie.

You could consider this a road, even though it was covered with seven inches of snow and wasn’t paved. None of the “roads” were paved in Sulver. There wasn’t enough money for that, not enough people for it to matter either.

Ahead there was a fork, I had a decision to make. Take the more traveled road on the left, or head to the graveyard on the right. It’s funny how when I first came here I would have done anything to stay on the lighted and traveled roads. I set my sights on the right.

In a normal town, maybe, normal people would be sitting by their fires and enjoying a nice cup of hot cocoa. But of course, this wasn’t a normal town and these sure weren’t normal people. Even I, for one, am not a normal person. Maybe this town’s eccentric attitude rubs off on you. Normal people don’t have to drag themselves across the snow to get away from something so terrifying that dying alone in the snowy woods would be a gift. But, who knows what normal is anyways?

I still wish I never came here. I realized through the course of my life that I don’t change my mind easily. Once I make my decision it stays unless a person, like him, would convince me to change. I was close to changing my mind. Until now.

After all that I’ve been through I still wish that my grandparents were still living in their little white house with me like a ghost by their sides. I wish that was how it was but I don’t get a normal life, I don’t deserve one. I’ll die here, in the cold, in the darkness, in the snow, in my only chance at heaven.

A storm drain is up ahead. The bars would be nice to pull myself across. My hands are bleeding. I feel the sour ache in my muscles as the strain to keep going. I can’t feel my left leg. I think it’s my left. No, it’s my right. I’m dying. My body can’t take this. I just need to get away. I reach to grab the bars across the storm drain, they’re so cold. It seems like I’m reaching for a cold death. It’s all so cold. Not even a coat, well, now a ripped coat, could keep me warm. A warm, sticky droplet falls down my skin. I can’t even tell it it’s blood or tears.

A hand wraps around my wrist. I jerk back with all the strength I can muster but it isn’t enough. The hand is hot against my freezing wrist but its lock makes me want to cry out in pain. I look down. Looking up at me is a boy I thought I knew and a man sworn to follow orders. They are the same person. His dark brown hair is tousled and wet from the snow, it looks black. His hand, wrapped around my wrist, is red. His other hand is pushed against the inside of the storm drain, the same with his feet. But most alarming are his eyes, a once calm shade of green now glows with an angry red-hot intensity. His grip tightens as he looks up at me. His mouth moves from a frown to a tight smile. A smile that brings me fear. He drops my hand and pushes off the top of the storm drain with little effort. It falls on the snow and compacts it as he pushes himself out of the drain. He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He stands straight up, at least a foot taller than me. I collapse, my leg crumbles beneath me. His arm keeps a tight hold on my wrist as I feel a tight pain in my arm. He looks down at me, a stony expression on his face. Tears stain mine.

“Ian, please..” I say as I try to pull my hand out of his steel hard grip. He looks down at me, his stony expression, his eyes blank. It’s over.