Dance of the Dark Angel

Josh hugged both arms close around his chest and wondered if his violent shivering would prevent him from giving in to the overwhelming need for sleep. He knew he was freezing to death but was somehow surprised to find the going easier, the cold more tolerable as death performed its ceremonial dance ever closer.

He leaned forward to peer out the small opening in the ice cave he had dug into a snow bank somewhere between ten and fifty hours ago. He couldn’t be sure anymore and was concerned that it didn’t seem to matter. Outside was where death waited for him. He could see the glowing dance of the dark angel as it tried to lure him out into the frozen night.

An eternity ago, there had been a chance. His slowed brain functions could still call up the moment when there was hope. There were mental frames that he could see, events gone by. There was the snapshot of him skiing off of the main trail; another frame showed him lost but unconcerned, a cell phone to his ear as he called for help.

He closed the mental album for a moment to notice that he had stopped shivering. His body had given up. It wouldn’t be long now. Back to the frames; they were all he had left. There was one of him frowning into his dead cell. He had only had a moment to describe his location before the call was dropped. Too much time had passed; the hourglass of hope was now empty.

He glanced out at the glowing dance to see it had changed. The lights were in hands; the hands were digging frantically to get him out of the cave. If only he could hold off the need to sleep a little longer.

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