There’s something mystical in the first snow fall of the year. A special quality of silence, Janice thought, one could almost hear the snowflakes fall.
She’d arrived early and was waiting for the night shift to get off. Listening to classical music, she began to day-dream.
She woke-up with a start, cold penetrating into her bones. She’d no longer been day-dreaming but soundly sleeping. The windscreen was covered in snow, the silence was penetrating almost unearthly.
She’d no idea how long she’d been dozing, maybe an hour. No, more, her audio player was nearly at the end of it’s eight-hour playlist. Light filtered through the snow. She tried to open the car door. Stuck. Panic began to flow into her and fear’s voice had moved its register from a whisper to a shout.
“Crap, crap, crap! I’ve got to get out of here!” she said on the verge of tears. She remembered her phone and pulled it out of her pocket. Hit her emergency number, put the phone to her ear – dead.
Then she heard the knock on the window: “Hello Janice. Sorry I’m late, I’ve come to pick you up.” said a chilly voice.
© G.s.k. ‘16
When I was a teenager in Alaska every once in a while someone would freeze to death, maybe they’d had too much to drink or their car broke down. We were told by instructors and adults that what would happen was that one would just fall to sleep and never wake up and that one had to try to stay awake. I think that probably there’s a lot worse ways to die …