The Realm of Hel

Each step created an indentation in the snow. The crunch and shuffle of flurries, at least up to the knees, was the only sound beyond the frigid whistling wind. Occasionally there was a spot of dead grass under my boot, and if I didn’t take a full overstep, I’d sink deep into the white.
My coat, scarf, and beanie kept my upper body warm, but my ill-prepared lower body shook with the ice caked to my jeans. I couldn’t feel my feet, toes might as well fallen off and I never would notice. I hobbled on what felt like stumps, wet and sweaty, taken by the ice.
I’d completely wrapped my face and scrunched every muscle in an attempt to generate heat. I was submerged in darkness, but taken by white. Frozen but alive.
Walking, walking, mushing, walking, shivering–
I bumped into something solid. I didn’t remove my blinders. I poked and prodded, eventually found the neck and heaved with my entire body. It tipped over and smashed to pieces like I’d thrown a pane of glass.
And kept walking.
Any obstacle I’d do the same. To keep walking through the cold.

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