The snow was exquisite, falling like drops of cotton onto the ground. It blanketed the grass, sliding alongside tree branches, burying dandelions and daffodils. A young boy was sitting on a small mound of the frozen water. He stared as a long procession of people trudged through the pure white. They were cloaked in black, about fifty in total, and they carried a small coffin.
In that sleek black box was a body of a child. The child who was born with pitch black hair and amazing green eyes, the kind of green that could have been painted with a brush dipped in the colors of the forests. The child's skin would be pale, paler than anyone's who hadn't seen the light of day in years. And that's just what this child's body will do.
The boy watched in silence as the cloaked figures stopped at a hole, big enough to slide the coffin in. He could do nothing but watch as they lowered it in, his body forever to be buried. He could do nothing but listen as the mourners raised their choked voices in a final harmony. He could do nothing but stay still as the coffin was buried under six feet of snow.
That's when he realized something.
In all his ten years of living...
Not once had he seen snow.
And now, he looked up at the sky. A small smile crossed his face. He finally got to see snow. He finally got to see the pure white fluff that his older brother spoke of when he would come home from travels.
Maybe death wasn't so bad. Maybe it was like these snowflakes. They travel with the wind, falling at random. Always falling, hitting the ground, but grouping with others. A new adventure at every twist and turn. Death works like that, sort of. Death can happen whenever, no one is prepared for it. But it can be a new adventure. Maybe he'll find others along this adventure. He didn't bother watching the funeral march on home. Instead he stood up, still staring at the sky, and began walking in a random direction.
Like a snowflake, he began to travel with the wind.
