My name is Isaac Flores, and I’m freezing to death.  My back feels like a church bell on Sunday morning. I’m covered in snow.  I can barely feel my hands, my legs, or my face.  Jesus, what do I do? I must get up; I’ve been lying here for God knows how long.  That is why I’m going to die. I’m going to give up. Lie here, and die here. 

            Here, where is here?  Where am I?  Good Christ, I must find out! I must get up and find out!  My curiosity movitivates me.  I pushed up on my aching back muscles, and I uncontrollably bellowed a loud groan. I am sitting up now. How peculiar, it’s not so cold once you’re up.  The curiosity to test this theory generated enough blood to my legs, and with a little help from my arms, to stand upright. I was still cold, from my icy bed, so I blew hot air into my hands.  The blanket of snow was still wrapped around me like my grandmother’s hug. Feverishly, I brushed off all the snow to reveal a long overcoat, with a tuxedo underneath.  I had worn it out apparently, drinking no doubt, or dancing. My bow tie was undone, and clung to the left side of my open collar.  I looked around, all around.  The sky was black as the horizon, till it met the pure white snow.  No wind, no snowfall.  Everything was either black, or white.  I smile. Even me.   

            The sounds of crunching snow under my dress shoes echoed out around me.  Although it wasn’t as cold as before, I still clutched my coat together.  I was in this mode of walking forward and staring at the ground I had no idea what I was passing.  I stopped,  and surveyed the landscape to the left of me. There was a cross.  Yes, a white cross against the black sky.  A church! I shook off the pain in my body, and the exhaustion in my mind.  I ran through the ankle deep snow. As I reached the entrance I could see no roads.  No parking lot, no cars, just a church in the middle of somewhere that I didn’t know.  Clenching the huge metal ring attached to the door, I thought what if no one is here?  I raised it to knock against the black door, when suddenly it creaked open.  I walked in, and behind the door I saw an old man.  “Hi, um excuse me.” 

             Silence my son, the storm will come soon.” He was terrified.  He acted like I should be to. What storm?  I had to ask.

            “What do you mean?” I questioned, but I was interrupted again.

            “The winds of death blow through our world, killing everything in sight. I thought I was the only one left; now you are here. Come, I’ve made safe all these years by sleeping underground in the mausoleum.  It’s the only way.  Come on I’ve prepared a shelter!”  He grabbed my arm.  “You can stay with me.  I’ll protect…”           

            “Get off me.” I shook him off so hard he stumbled back into a pew.  He had a wild look on his face.  Why not?  I didn’t like to be told what to do, especially if that meant sleeping in a coffin with a crazy old man.  I can take care of myself.  “I mean, I’m sorry, Father I have to go.”  I turned to leave, and he leaped at me.  I moved out of his reach and he hit the floor.  I had to go. This was insane.  He grabbed my leg.

            “Please don’t go, the storm. The storm will kill you.”  He was pleading on the tile floor.  What a nut.  I kicked my foot away, and slammed the heavy door shut.  I heard him crying on the other side.  Lying in the snow so long made my heart cold.  Can I trust him? It was ridiculous.  I scoff, and walk past the church.  There’s got to be something out here. My wife’s going to be pissed.   She is so beautiful, even when she is upset with me.  I think about her, while striding in the crunching snow. Suddenly, in mid-stride I stop moving.  Not because I wanted to, but because there was something in my way.  “What the heck?”  I extended my arm; it would only stretch out in front of me a foot or so.  Weird, it’s like an invisible wall.  The wind kicked up and the snow from the ground began to swirl around me.  What is happening? I stop touching the wall and a gust of wind hits the front of my body.  I find myself flying past the church, which is now upside down and sealed tight.   Past all my tracks faster and faster, and then SMACK. I struck another wall I’m still conscious, barely.  I reach behind my head, and it feels wet. Blood.  Oh, God help me.  I was thrown once again into the air toward the church.  I scream.

            A small child is in his room playing with something.  Nona Flores walks in, and questions her nephew about her bother.  “Vincent, have you seen your father?”  The little boy shakes his head “no”, and continues shaking the snow globe that is beginning to swirl with red.