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Rated: E · Other · Other · #1380965
Hmmm...Time to think...
It was a cold, snowy day in January when the little boy, his clothes tattered and shoes worn thin, stumbled across the ice-crusted field. His path was treacherous, the hard packed snow creating miniature hills and valleys, making it impossible to run, difficult to even walk at a steady gait. At times, he was forced to his knees to catch his balance after his feet would sink into the snow and he fell. Tears of frustration froze on his pale face as the chill air was stirred by a constant gust of wind.
He shivered and continued to sob as his limbs became painfully numb with the onset of hypothermia. He tried to produce some warmth for his fingers by rubbing them together, but soon discovered slivers of skin being rubbed off, leaving bright pink layers of flesh to face the elements.
Off in the distance, he could see the silhouette of the farm house looming like a forlorn beacon of hope. With all the strength he could muster, the little boy continued to set one foot in front of the other, refusing to allow himself a break for any reason.
He focused his vision on the farm house, never once letting his eyes lose that sight. He reached out with his hands as if he would pull himself on an invisible rope closer to the farm house. His breathing was ragged and the cold air stabbed at his lungs. The more he labored to breath, the more he began to realize that something was horribly wrong, that it wasn't just the icy air bringing pain to his lungs. Soon, he became aware of a burning ache in his side. He reached a hand down where he suspected the root of the discomfort would be found. He touched his left side and felt a warm fluid caking on his torn short. He brought his hand to bear and felt his energy dwindle and fade.
His pale hand was coated in dark, reddish blood. The pain surged anew, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him and he crumbled to the ground, no longer able to carry himself to the farm house.
In his despair, the boy could hear the crunch of boots on the snow. He clutched his wound, staring blankly ahead. Gradually, the boy felt his life draining. Darkness clouded his vision as he began to fade.
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