The snow kept hitting the window of our cabin like kamikaze pilots in World War II. No one could even imagine it being colder than it already was, let alone even thinking about it. My Father wore a thick furry flannel jacket to go into the forest and swing at some tree trunks. He had in his hand an old iron axe our grandfather gave him a long time ago, most likely when he was a kid. While buckling up his boots and wrapping his scarf, our Mother looked at him with despair; he looked toward the window, glaring at the forestry that was blanketed with snow, and the icicles that were hanging by the branches. As he closed the door, I paused for a moment and set off to get my things and follow him into the stormy weather. My Mother couldn’t even speak; she was so cold. My Mother looked at me with the same look she gave Father; almost like she knew something bad was going to happen to us. I left the cabin with my Mother and my Sister there. I walked out into the blizzard trying to catch up to my Father, but I could only see his silhouette; then it suddenly vanished. I started to run up an old stone staircase that led to the forest, and then I could see his silhouette. He stopped for a second; and then I knew that was my chance to catch up to him. I ran and stopped to where he was standing and said “Dad? Are you okay?” He turned to me, but he wasn’t my Father; then it violently kicked me toward the staircase with an unbelievable force. My head struck a stone causing me to fall unconscious.
It may need a tune up. :3 Guys, let me know if I should continue the story or not. I just made it off the top of my head tonight.
It may need a tune up. :3 Guys, let me know if I should continue the story or not. I just made it off the top of my head tonight.
