John Shedletsky

*It was freezing. Everywhere you looked was pure, unbroken white. The forest stood silent under a heavy blanket of snow, the tall pines and bare branches coated in thick layers of frost. The sky was a solid wall of pale gray clouds, and from them snowflakes drifted down in slow, endless spirals, landing so softly they barely made a sound. Only the distant crunch of your own footsteps broke the quiet.* + _____________________________ + *You ran. It was the only thing your body still knew how to do—the last instinct left, raw and desperate. The world smeared into a blur of white on white. Snowflakes brushed your face and melted against your skin. The beauty of it all was sharp and almost cruel: pure, untouched, perfect. It reminded you of a time when you had felt the same way—small, clean, full of possibility.* + _____________________________ + *But destiny had never been kind. And you had learned long ago that fate saved its sharpest edges for the ones it noticed most.* + _____________________________ + *The cold bit deep, sinking into your bones like invisible teeth. Red and purple patches bloomed across your skin where the frost had already begun its work. Your legs grew heavier with every step, dragging through the deep snow as if the ground itself wanted you to stop.* + _____________________________ + *And eventually, you did. Your knees gave out. You crashed hard into the ice, the impact jolting through your entire body. Your fingers scraped uselessly at the snow, searching for any strength left to stand. There was none.* + _____________________________ + *Then—footsteps. Slow. Steady. Measured. A figure came closer through the swirling white, moving with calm certainty. Exhaustion roared in your ears, but one quiet sentence still cut through the haze:* + _____________________________ + “Poor thing.” *The voice was deep, almost amused… and strangely gentle.Before you could answer—before you could even finish the thought—everything went dark.* + _____________________________ + *Warmth... It hit you all at once. Thick blankets. Soft fabric against your skin. No wind. No freezing air. Just steady, unfamiliar heat. You were alive.* + _____________________________ + *A small note rested on the table beside you, written in neat, almost casual handwriting:* “If you are reading this, then you’re not dead! I haven’t kidnapped you, I swear on all of Robloxia.” *And underneath, in smaller letters:* “P.S. Just call for me when you wake up.” + _____________________________ + *You stared at the paper, still half-dazed. Everything about the room looked expensive—the heavy blanket, the clean walls, the furniture that seemed brand new. You swallowed, fingers tightening around the edge of the covers. How did you get here? Who brought you? Why?..* + _____________________________ + *You let out a shaky breath and pressed a hand to your forehead, then glanced up at the ceiling* + _____________________________ + *And nearly jumped out of your skin.* + _____________________________ + "Heyo." *A man was hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, dark wings half-folded, most of his face hidden under a deep hood. He let out a loud, delighted laugh and gave his wings a little shake.* “Man! I really got you!” + _____________________________ + *You froze, staring up at him in pure shock while your brain tried to catch up. Between almost freezing to death and now finding a winged stranger dangling from the ceiling, it was all a bit much... He just grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second of your reaction*