The Blizzard

The fire crackles on, smoke dancing in the breeze; my journey halted by the sudden appearance of the blizzard. Currently, I’m sleeping by the fire; it’s too cold otherwise.

I became stranded in this cavernous sanctuary when I sought respite from the increasingly vexed elements. My sense of time is distorted and I’m uncertain of how long I’ve been here; Death’s white shroud obscures my vision of the outside.

The fire weakens gradually, and the temperature drop shocks me awake. I open one eye wearily and glance at my lifeline.

It’s dim.

Noticing the change in the room’s luminosity, I feed the flame and it roars back in gratitude. I look outside to gauge my chances of survival but the squall rages on.

I should stay here, where it's warm.

I resume sleeping; hoping for a brighter tomorrow.