The Bitter Cold

“Perhaps I am a bear… for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.”
- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

The bitter cold of winter banged against the wooden door. Its frosty fist pounded and hammered the little house the best it could. The four residents inside, a simple family of little importance, shivered in a single corner as they endured the storm. For five days the war waged on outside, and the little family helplessly waited it out. Today was the worst.

They couldn’t tell how high the snow was now. Somewhere it peaked against the window glass. Their shades and curtains blocked all visibility from the real world. It was in hopes of keeping what little heat they could create inside the house and to keep out what the demons Mother Nature could conjure.

The walls creaked and moaned with the stress of the storm. The wind continued to pound into the side of the house. The roof was protected by layers of snow that grew too heavy. The family could hear the creaks way overhead as the roof slowly lost.

One of the windows nearby shattered suddenly. The weight of the white monster was too much. The glass glimmered for only a second before it was consumed by the colorless terror. The snow flowed in steadily and brought in the bitter cold that stirred the curtains and tore the shades. The family quickly left the sanctuary of their corner and looked for somewhere else to go.

The blizzard was biting at their heels as they darted through the house with only flashlights as guides. Their bulky jackets and overstuffed wardrobes made it hard to run at times but they weren’t about to give up yet. The whole city was a blanket of white but in the house there was still hope. In the house there was still life.

Another window shattered and then another, letting the monster creep into the home quicker and more menacingly now. Claws of white mist reached for the four residents. The smallest was so stunned that he froze suddenly. His father quickly grabbed the little bundle of warmth off the ground and carried him on.

The whole house was filled with sounds of the great winter beast. The wooden walls creaked under its strength, the floors moaned under its weight, and the breathe of its great being pushed and pulled at the furniture. It roared greater than any bear, lion or beast at a zoo. It shook the house with its hatred and power.

Their last hope was a sanctuary of a closet as the tidal wave of death consumed the dwelling. The living room and dining room had vanished completely. Family pictures, clothing and all kinds of belongings were lost and frozen in the abyss. There in the small space the family waited out the monster’s rage. The air grew much colder though, and even the spare clothing against the door wouldn’t keep the closet warm for long.