When Hell Freezes Over

Snow changes the landscape; out of sight, out of mind and all that. Its almost easy to forget that the hungry dead are just a few feet below all this white powder. But that's a problem for another day. Today we deserve a break. Today the spiked wooden doors have been thrown open to the white wasteland and the children are skidding down the hills in their padded jackets on scrap metal.

Today there are deer in the distance; we watch them amble by without giving chase. Winter is the only time of year when we can think about life rather than death.

There's dried meat in the stores, plenty of fuel to boil water, seeds and weapons for the spring. The annual rebirth of the world has become rather literal. We know the thaw is coming by the sounds; they moan before they move. Just for a week or two. We call it cull season; they're like sitting, rotting ducks.

And in a few years everything that makes them move will be gone. All that haunted flesh slips away eventually. One day, they'll be a minority, then a memory, and we can all reminisce about the Z years... but today, hell has frozen over and we can all be children for a while. The sky is clear and blinding in every direction, the world shines like polished glass, and the kids have built a snowman. Granted its being chased by a snowzom, but that's the world we live in.