Snowy Night [Prologue]

The sound of the church bell meeting the hammer can be heard echoing in the silent night. It masked the sound of suffering from the villagers. From every dark corner, bodies can be seen trembles from the numbing white powders spreading throughout the continent. For the fortunate one, warmth being shared as they sit in front of the fireplace in the comfort of their house.

A young boy can be seen roaming the street barefoot while holding a basket filled with coal. He hardly can move his fingers and bring them closer to each other. He tries to regain warmth by rubbing it together. The tips of his fingers were quite red and blue from the cold. His long straight hair covered with snow and his lips have turned purple with cracks can be seen.

"Coal! Coal! Coal for one cent!" His voice echoed through the night. His basket is still filled to the brim. No one has purchased anything from him since the break of the dawn. He has not taken a sip of water nor a bite of bread ever since he was thrown out from his house. The fear of being struck with a broomstick on his frail body by his step mom makes him brave through the snow. His step father would not spare a thought before beating his small body for he has not sold a single coal for the day.

"Stupid child! You are just finishing our food supplies for the winter!" The burly man kicked and stepped on the little boy's body. He just stayed on the cold ground without making a single sound. He knows that if he tries to say something, he will take more beating.

No one has wished for their guardian to pass away however the black plague has claimed the young boy's parents. Left with nothing, he was handed over to his aunt. Treated as a slave in his own house while the adults fill their belly with alcohol. For his aunt only wants the young boy's little wealth that was left behind by his parents. His cousins use him as a sandbag to try their strength. He is often being thrown on the street so that they can bully him in a bigger group.

The young boy continues his journey along the street until he enters a housing area. A wonderful smell of roasted goose stuffed with chestnut fills up the air. The warm light brightens the windows to the house at the end of the streets. A little girl's laughter can be heard as he walks closer to the house. His tiny feet can no longer take a stride further.

"Thump!" His little body hits the hard, cold street.

"Papa! There is a boy outside of our house!" The little girl alerted her parents.

The two adults sprint and open the door. They wrapped the little boy's body with a warm blanket and brought him closer to the fireplace.

"He must have been lost in this snow storm. Poor child. What parents have let their children roaming the street at this time?", said the lady to her husband.

"Mama, is he going to be alright?", the little girl asked while brushing the little boy's hair away from his face.

"He is a little bit cold but soon he will be alright sweetie." she replied to the young girl.

Mama takes off the young boy's wet cloth and scars were revealed indicating he came from an abusive family. She proceeded to put on a set of new clothing on the young boy.

His blue lips slowly turn red while his breathing grows steadier, the longer he is held in front of the fireplace. "I must be in heaven.", he thought to himself while not fully regaining his consciousness. Maybe his parents welcomed him with open arms. Being dead is so much better than living like hell on earth. Well maybe hell is better because at least it is warmer compared to getting frozen to death. Slowly losing your limbs to frostbite is a different kind of hell.

He waits and waits more yet he still does not see his parents apart from pitch black. Why does it take longer to die? He used to think that death seems easier. He is not shrouded from the idea of death compared to a child in his age. He has seen death almost every single day in his life. Every day, he is greeted by frozen corpses along the alley. Sometimes someone that he just spoke to today might end up dead the next day. No one can predict when death will come to knock your door. He is afraid but he is willing to be taken to neither hell or heaven now.

He slowly opens his eyes and like a dream he used to have, now he is in a warm house.