(Tunnels)

The snow has come back to flood the streets of our small northern town. With the snow, loneliness sets in, and the seasonal melancholies swoop in and affect all who don’t embrace the warmth of the season.

I remember last winter, and how cold it was, and yet somehow, I’m not prepared for this go around either, like every year. It seems that the cold always sneaks in without warning, but that’s our emotions clouding out our views; we just simply forgot about the numbness the snow causes, just like how we forget the steam of the summer.

My street is hardly visible due to all the crisp snow. Icicles drip dots from the streetlights, a pink afterglow fades away in the sky, and a light wind blows throughout the town; it is evening, and the town is entering its hibernation cycle.

My feet leave hesitating tracks while I make my way down the blanketed, icy street. I’m nervous; the town has been plagued by a recent string of murders involving children the past few weeks. It happens every four years, it seems…children go out into the snow, and never come back. They are found miles away, usually in the forest, guts spread throughout tree branches and hands groping for help that just would not come.

But there’s no need to think about that. I have to hurry on to my destination; the center of the town. There, I’ll meet with my friend, and crush, Lindsay Patterson.

I couldn’t be late for this. If I was, we’d never be together. I don’t know why, or how, but I just have this yearning to see her before something (I don’t know exactly what) happens.

The sleet started up again as I was on my way, and I hear a shrill cry in the air; a boy is lost in the snow, I can hear it, perhaps. But, for some reason, I ignore the cries…

I am not lonely, I am not lonely. 

I pass by a lonely looking house, and I feel something stir in my stomach. That house is marked, and I need to get away from it. It's irrational, but somehow, it feels right. 


It feels like I'm following my instincts.

The street ends, and I’m soon on the other main street leading to the town center. Small family shops appear, and I stroll along their windows, peering inside in search of anything interesting to gaze upon. The usual meets my eyes; warm customers looking through the shelves, the same old merchandise such as the bakery’s pies and cakes and the TVs in the electronic shop, and as always, my miserable reflection in the iced over windows.

I stop at one window, and look closer at the reflection of my face. Grey eyes, long brown hair to the shoulders, and a larger than average nose meet me gaze. I see a broken boy, with turmoil deep within his heart. A divorce causes a lot of things, and a funeral just worsens them…I’m the prime example of that. Cracks in my heart have been filled in, yes, but they have not been repaired…they could burst back open at any time.

While I’m absorbed into this illusion, I notice someone watching me in the reflection of the window. For a second, my vision picks up clues to the identity of the stranger; black, fine clothing, long slender fingers, and a highly prominent, oval forehead. These visual cues disappear, however, as the figure steps out of the window’s reflection.

I quickly turn around, only to find a completely empty street. No tracks, no shadows, no puffs of warm breath lingering in the air. Nothing was here, and I doubt there ever was a person here; just my imagination. That’s all this was, all it is, and all it will ever be.

Noticing that I just wasted a huge chunk of time, I quicken my pace towards the town center. I need to be there by 5:45…

More windows pass by, and perhaps the stranger lurked in their reflections, but I did not stop and look, despite the overwhelming sense that I had to. In the ice, there were also reflections, tinged orange by the streetlights lining up and down this street causing this part of town to be lit up in a brilliant orange glow.

Finally, I see her. A slim figure, with a halo of curly brown hair surrounding her porcelain face, awaited me. She wore a pink hoodie and black snow boots. She was tapping her foot, impatiently.

It was 5:40. I had made it.

She asked me what had taken so long when I approached, and I just answered with a goofy smile…I couldn’t say anything else. I had the sense that we needed to be quiet…we didn’t want to wake the town up with our merriment.

She asked if I was ready with her soothing voice, and I lied and answered that I was. We strolled off onto our date, oblivious to the tall, suited stranger silently observing us above a streetlight.

That was how it all started half a year ago, in my small town. I won’t bother telling you the name of it, as I can’t even remember it; it has been wiped from existence. You can believe me or choose not to, but this blog will detail the history behind what happened.

My name’s Bill and my town was destroyed by an ancient creature.

I am the only survivor.