Hi all,
here’s another piece of writing prompt flash fiction for you. I’m trying out something a little different so keep reading and let me know if you prefer these ‘new’ stories or the ‘old’ ones Enjoy!
He should have turned back when the others had. Now he lay crushed under the weight of snow. It was so cold his eyes had frozen shut. His chest heaved as he screamed at himself to dig his way out. A wolf howled.
He needed to get out from under the snow. He’d never be found under all this ice. Especially if he waited until morning. The wolf howled again.
He tried. His head didn’t move. The ache of the cold localised around his chest. Pierced by an icicle. He was leaking blood, leaking heat. Or his heart was panicking, telling him it wanted to stop. His breath, already shallow and shaky, stopped. In panic he flailed, tried to. He passed out from exertion and fear.
He woke, terrified out of dreams by the lack of oxygen. The ice was heavier on his chest. Settling on him, burying him. He screamed, knowing there was no way his friends would hear him. The wolf howled again. It sounded close. He couldn’t be far from the surface if the sound came through so clearly. He forced his breathing to calm, concentrated his attention on his right arm. Use the strength of his shoulder to drag it a centimetre closer. Make that first bit of space he could use to dig himself out.
It moved! He started to cry with relief, thinking he was laughing.
Twisting and pulling, shoving and worming under the snow he was going to make it. He was groaning, swearing and shouting for help, not hearing what he was saying. Talking and shouting for company, to prove he was alive. His eyes were frozen shut, the tears had turned to ice, even under his lids. The breeze was what told him he had made it. Warm. Soft repetitive breezes.
Breath. He’d been found, thank God, thank God!
The wolf howled.
Short and sweet, no?
