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He was cold.

  No, no, he was more than cold. He was freezing.
The winter breeze snapped at his frostbitten fingers, as if it were biting them, gnawing on his nails, teeth scathing his palm, piercing his wrist. It was much too painful. He seethed in agony, hissing and slamming his hands onto his slightly-warmer jumper which was mostly covered by his heavy-duty winter jacket. He had hoped to cash in on the new Yukon craze, with the men over there screaming of the riches of the rare gems, Musgravite and Bismuth and many more, those of which don’t normally appear in such cold areas. These may have been dropped by old, old ancient people seeking the same riches - or maybe they had finished forming and their gleam shone through the ever-thickening snow. It had been a recurrence of the biggest propaganda in history - the California Gold Rush, only much, much more valuable and, in his words, a whole lot colder.

 He had been travelling amongst an unknown trail that he had hoped was a shortcut for around a day, now. The sun was beating down nicely on the snow, however it seemed as if all the rays were being neglected and shooed off by the frequent, icy winds of Yukon, Canada. He would need a fire soon, would he not? He chewed the thought around for a little bit while walking. He was a young man, aged seventeen, and had hoped to earn more money for his family. There had been a recent famine in eastern Europe - more specifically, Belarus. With the little money he had, he boarded a sickening, disgusting boat all the way to Canada. Then he caught a train all the way onto Yukon Railroad, where he quickly hopped off and was now-

 He scowled in pain yet again. He bumped his head onto a thick branch hanging loosely. He saw the stack of snow piled up onto it, and then realized he had no idea where he was. After all the thinking of fire, family, food, money, he had gotten completely lost. He swore quietly to himself and pressed away a few branches from a bush, also assaulted with snow. Pushing one foot in over the dune of the sleet and taking it back out again, he had to be cautious. Snow like this would freeze a lake, and any misplaced step could mean instantaneous freezing. Kind of like turning into a gigantic ice cube shaped like a human body. However, identifying it as safe to walk on, he continued his path. He reached for his compass in his pocket, fumbling around a little. His hands were so cold, so numb, he could almost not feel his fingers. It was hard to bend, his fingers a tint light blue, it was painful, it was horrendous, but he grasped the compass in his hand. He’d have to put on gloves with hand warmers in them afterwards, he thought. Flicking the compass open with a finger, he took a long glance at where the red stick had wobbled, and then fixated itself. His eyes were cold and dead.
He had been travelling South, not North.

 It was so.. humiliating. Nobody else was around, but still, it stung, as if he felt a million eyes watching and mouths laughing like monkeys. Fingers prodding at his expense. He had never felt more stupid in his life. He had been travelling South for so long, and he hadn’t even noticed. He had to be in British Columbia by now. He flailed his arms in anger, slamming them against the snow, his fragile fingers curled up - not completely - into a clasp, a fist, a gigantic knuckle of absolute fury. Slamming on bark, slush, ice, branch . It was too much. It was all too much. He could not take it any longer. Finally, he let out a caustic screech of swears, hisses, pure enmity.

 He made animus comments toward himself. He was just.. so frustrated. However, there was one thing he liked about being embittered - and it was that it made him warm. He felt himself again, and not like he was in an insanely cold environment full of slush. This moment quickly passed and he realized he was. Don’t feel pity for yourself, he thought. It won’t do you any good.

 He continued to pity himself. He could just imagine himself, his family in the dining area, his mother making him and his sister and his father some cups of hot cocoa, with marshmallows, and maybe even some whipped cream, and they’d sip it up and be all warm and -
He nudged the thought away. There was no time to be thinking about that. What he did need was a fire. A roaring fire, to caress his fingers gently with the power of heat and warmth. Sparks made fire. He stepped over to a branch to grab it and immediately felt a sharp pain. He cried out, and he began to sink. It was a pool of ice that he so unluckily managed to step into. He was so unfortunate, all of the bad things in the world just had to happen to him! The universe hated him, didn’t it? These were his thoughts as his leg felt numb, and screeched and cried as his leg felt like it came loose, was jabbed by sharp icicles, stalagmites made of ice, it punctured his leg, then his waist and torso, and then he could no longer move.

He had turned into a gigantic ice cube, shaped like a human body.

-Ethan S. 2015
Something I conjured up in around.. let's say 45 minutes. A short little realistic fiction about a man in Yukon Territory.
Please not this isn't totally realistic - of course, I'm not the best at Geography, so things may be a little off. But that's alright - it's the way I view the world.

All writing done by me.
Moveing Stop Sign No, you cannot use any excerpts from this without my permission. This is all my work. :)
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:iconsjinsshadow:
SjinsShadow Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
This is so well written, Ethan! I felt the cold, the frostbites, and whenever he mentioned a nice roaring fire, I felt the heat from the flames before instantly feeling pity for him. I could literally imagine myself in this situation with no blank spaces! SO GOOD.
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:iconlalnasounds-reborn:
LalnaSounds-Reborn Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2015
I have yet to finish the story. I felt the ending was quite sloppy and I'm revising it right now - but I love the feedback! :D But yeah, I'm writing about snow and sleet and stuff because it never snows in Florida. Sad, huh? :(
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:iconsjinsshadow:
SjinsShadow Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You’re welks! ^^

N’aw! One day you’ll see snow, Ethan!
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:icontttefans:
TTTEFANS Featured By Owner Edited Oct 20, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
This reminds me of To Build A Fire.....


PEPPA! PEPPA COME HERE YOU SON OF A B*****************************************
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:iconlalnasounds-reborn:
LalnaSounds-Reborn Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2015
lol
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:icontttefans:
TTTEFANS Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
NO PEPPA 
NO
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