So far, life was good to me. It gave me a nice family, a nice home, and a nice childhood. I was only seven years old, and it was in the middle of December. My three sisters and I would play together when it was snowing really hard, making snowmen and angels all day. We didn't care; we liked it cold. One day, we stayed out for hours, throwing snowballs at each other and giggling as we get hit by one. Mother called for us to have dinner. My hungry and tired sisters ran inside, only gripping that they weren't staying out longer. I just kept playing, watching the snowflakes fall on my sleeves so I could look how beautiful they are up close, as they began to stick to my hair, my face, my eyelashes. My nose was running, my fingers were freezing underneath my red mittens, turning a faint blue.
I trudged through the beloved snow with my now-white grey boots all the way home. I twisted the knob in both directions, but it wouldn't open. I knocked as hard as I could only to have the snow in the roof fall on me. I still knocked, ignoring the snow that is lightly fallen off me and causing me to get colder. I dashed in panic and stood on my tip-toes to gaze through the hazy window. They looked so... happy. The room was lit with warm candles, the table surrounded by my sisters and parents, laughing and having tender turkey together. My feet rested and began shaking instead. I sat down, hugging my knees close to my chest, shaking in the falling snow as it started to make white piles on me shoulders and head, like I was an unmoving object.
My knees planted on the ground as I hunched over, getting sicker and sicker. My skin turned faintly blue, my fingers were numb and purple, my clothes were wet from the melted snow. My eyes were breaking out into tears, but immediately became dry and frozen to my cheeks. My throat was dry, so I couldn't yell. My feet were frozen, so I couldn't move. I just cried until I let my beloved snow capture me.
I felt a faint caress on my head and heard a soft whisper. I slowly moved my head up to see who it was, looking through my wet hair.
A man with ghostly-white skin and a rich black coat stood me up. His solemn face looked at me so somberly. I looked straight into his soulless, black eyes, seeing only my dead reflection. Mercy. I rested his hand on my head as I peered into the bright light that appeared behind him. He led the way and wanted me to follow, pointed towards himself to make me come with him to a special place, where I'll never be cold again and I'll be cared for.
Being so cold and tired, I was enchanted by the idea alone. My eyes were filled with tears at the a kindness he was giving. My shaking legs trudged through the bitter snow, closer to the white light. I smiled, reaching my arms to that place.
The brightness of the entrance turned darker as I got close. I was feeling very sleepy. The man looked at me with his brow furrowed as his skin peeled to reveal his gray, dusty bones. He looked at me with his eyes turning into vacant, black eye sockets. Now, on the inside, I'm screaming, but I was still moving. I had no idea what was happening. My legs were still moving toward the darkness, even though I begged to stop. Each step, I'm taking, my mind screams louder, but my body isn't. I was moving like I was in a trance. The man's skin burned to reveal his true self.
As I hesitate to step into whatever was in that place, something grabs me from behind.
It was my mother, frantically wrapping me in a blanket and carried me back into the house.
I woke up in a lit room. I felt hot. I gazed out the hazy window to see the man, fading away with empty eye sockets covered by his hood. I was startled. I heard a soft voice, telling me that everything was okay. It was my mother, feeding me hot soup. My eyes opened wider to reveal my room and my father and three sisters as they watched over me. I nearly cried. Mother kissed me on my forehead and told me she loved me. I would tell her the same, but I was still thinking that man in the black cloak. I didn't tell about the "man" I just saw when I was outside. I didn't think she would believe me. So, as she comforted me, I nodded and smiled back.
Life is good to me, but I'm not sure Death would be the same.