Snow came down on a valley mercilessly, striking a young boy, no older than seventeen, and dusting his black cloak white. He clutched it around him tightly with a gloved hand, the other keeping his hood on his head. The strong winds, the ones that drove the snowflakes everywhere, ripped at the boy's cloak vigorously, determined to rip it off of him. Ahead he thought he saw a blurry figure. He picked up his pace, seeing it really was somebody after crossing a short distance. "Excuse me! Please help me!" The boy yelled, but the wind easily drowned his voice out. He let go of his cloak and cupped his hands around his mouth, feeling the cloak fly off. He quickly turned around to try and grab it, but was met with an icy beast, at least a thousand red, beady eyes staring down at him. The beast's jaws stretched unnaturally wide and scooped the boy up. The light faded and the last thing he heard was the sickening crunch of the bones in his arms as the beast chewed him up.
YOU ARE READING
Death's Door
FantasyA boy has been escaping Death's grasp for as long as he could remember. How he does it? Not even he could tell you.
