Snow

The field extends as far as the eyes can see. Its beauty is comparable to non, and yet it is that very thing that makes it so beautiful that makes it so dangerous.

Everything sat still around the young child. Everything was so cold, so unimaginably cold. Wherever they went, it felt nothing more than like a punishment. Time merged into itself, becoming extended, seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours.

The child had stopped being mesmerized by the initial beauty of the field. They were growing hungry, and the only thing they could do to quench that slowly growing hunger was eating chunks of snow and dried grass.

The child's hunger was growing, and their patience was waning. Mother had said she would be back. That she would show them a glimpse of heaven, and at first, they thought this was it. But the longer they spent in the desolate cold, the clearer it was that this place was not heaven, and in fact, was not only hell, but their cold and desolate grave.

The child still waited, even when they lost their will. They still waited, waited, and waited some more. They knew their mother would come back for them, they just had to hold it out a little longer.

The child was begging to grow hungrier. The snowballs and dried grass were starting to not be enough. They felt become more and more dizzy, and then, the hunger disappeared.

They still felt a little cold, now numb from their neck and down, but it was better than before, they felt like they would be able to make it, they just needed to wait for their mother to come for them, like they knew she would. And with that last thought, they fell asleep for the last time.

In the end, the child was nothing but skin and bones, their flesh frozen over, blue from the frost. The snow clung to their lashes as if begging for him to open their eyes again. Their fingertips were purple from digging in the snow, from digging themselves into the snow, hoping to find the warmth of their mothers' hugs.

____________

She was growing more and more sick with worry, guilt and paranoia eating away at her stomach. She had lost her child. Wanting to show them a beautiful waterfall their father had shown them when they were little, she had dressed her child in the warmest clothes she could find, grabbed a small basket, and gone on her way. She didn't expect to leave something as important as her own coat behind in her excitement.

It had been a while now, but it wasn't as if she could keep track of time, not in such a state, there wasn't a single sign of life as far as she looked. No matter where she went, she could not see the face of her child anywhere.

She had been irresponsible; she had slipped up once and now the world was telling her to pay for it. Her limbs had grown numb, and now all she could do was crawl along the snowy grown like a worm. Screaming out her child's name, hoping for a response.

Everything felt as if for naught, exhaustion was catching up to her. She was devoid of all, she looked ghastly, ice clinging to her skin, tears frozen solid to her face, lips frozen over, blistering and bleeding. She crawled and crawled, her voice already growing hoarse, disappearing in the wind. Worry had not only eaten away at her stomach, but also at her life.

As time slowly crawled by, and as the end surely came near, she understood there was no hope, she was dying, and she would never get to see her baby again. And it pained her so. She wanted to see her baby one more time, to know if they were safe and warm somewhere, sitting by a fire with a warm cup of chocolate milk in their hands, laughing at a joke someone made. She wanted to see her child's smile one more time.

Time crawled by, and it was her end. And so, she let out her last dying breath. Forever in search, forever in worry.