Sea of Snowflakes

November 7, 2011
By Bryce Sherif BRONZE, Bellingham, Washington
Bryce Sherif BRONZE, Bellingham, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

You walk along a crunchy, snowed over path wondering where you are. You find yourself confused and forgotten. You squint helplessly trying to find a land mark to guide you but you can’t see through the grey blizzard. Is your family looking for you? Or are they sitting at the dinner table silently, frowning, with their hands folded neatly in their laps waiting for you to show up? You know they won’t be happy if you keep them waiting for much longer. Perhaps they are searching for you in the harsh sea of snowflakes. It’s better not to get your hopes up though. They could be scarfing down the turkey and mashed potatoes, leaving you the scraps to fight over with the dogs.

You shuffle your way through the powder, soaking your boots. Your nose is being nipped by the wind and your fingers are numb to the bone. Your fur coat is useless now that you stumbled over a frozen log and got a heap of cold snow down it. Your light blue hat is lost now since the wind whipped it from your frozen hands when you shook the powder out of it. The inside of your scarf is only lightly dusted by snowflakes, but it still chills your neck enough to tremble. No clothing is dry anymore; no body part is warm anymore.
You stop to catch your icy breath that leaves whips of frosty air floating around you. You are terribly disoriented. Everything looks the same in the snowy winter. But you keep trudging along, waiting for a sign to lead you in the correct direction. You walk for miles and miles but nothing shows. The blizzard is ever so slightly dyeing down, but you can’t tell the difference anymore. You’re just so tired and your brain is muddled. You start to hallucinate; your mind is so confused. You don’t know where you are and there’s nothing to help you find your way. You run, but you feel like something is pulling you back, trying to stop you. You scream as voices crowd your head telling you that you’ll never be found. Your eyes are filled with tears and sweat and they burn from the wind. You lose track of your footing and flop into the snow. You sob and your tears melt the flakes beneath your eyes. You have given up on your journey back to your warm home. Does your family even care? You know you shouldn’t have wondered off by yourself to the forest behind your yard. And you have already walked so far that you have probably gone off of your property to an unfamiliar part of the forest. But everything looks the same in the snow.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book

Parkland Speaks

Smith Summer