The Storm

This is the story of my final moments. It may seem rather short, so I will try and drag it out as long as possible for your entertainment. If you find my suffering entertaining. But, I won't delve into deeper thoughts of you reading this story of the torture of knowing you are going to die for your enjoyment, so on with the story!

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Cold. Numb. Fear. All I could think about were those individual thoughts. The wind roared and pulled on my wings, ripping them open and pulling a couple frozen feathers in the process. But I paid no mind to the pain, as I couldn't feel it. I could not feel anything but cold. Snowflakes pricked at my skin like needles, but again I could feel nothing.

One hoof after the other. Making my way upwards, pulling my frostbitten limbs through the deep snow. My mane was completely frozen, stiff as a board. The pack perched between my frozen wings had a layer of frost over the leather, ice particles gluing it to my form. I had to struggle to even blink because snowflakes threatened to plaster them shut for eternity. One hoof after the other.

Keep moving. Don't stop. If you stop you die. I struggled to think this instead of You'll die anyways. Frozen trails of water led down my face from my neglected tear ducts. I could practically hear the ice cracking each time I moved a hoof. I had no goal in the remainder of my life that lay before me, but I knew I had to move. Instinct drove me forth, drove me in a direction that according to it would save my small life.

My mind wandered to my family. A beautiful wife, two gorgeous foals. I never should have taken the dare to brave Mt. Everest. Never should have left. Never. But I couldn't dwell on that, just keep moving. For my family. I couldn't give up yet.

Rattled wheezes left my mouth, I had to keep it open so it wouldn't seal shut. But my esophagus had a slick layer of ice over its walls, making breathing more difficult than necessary. Keep moving. Don't stop. One hoof before the other. Almost zero visibility was allowed. My mind was becoming blotted. A quick flap of my wings to keep my blood flowing.

The simple movement of the limbs proved extremely difficult, so I more managed a slow arc rather than a flap. The snow I stood atop of seemed to get ever colder, ever deeper. The wind several times almost blew me straight off the mountain. I had to get to the top. I Had to. I had promised my wife that. And I'm known well for keeping my promises.

My right hoof lifted and met nothing, I set it down in the snow and raised my left hoof, yet again feeling nothing. I had made it. Pushing my creaking limbs, I stood on my hind legs at the very top of Mt. Everest. A strange warmth was coming over my mind, the warmth feeling so welcoming. My vision went black at the corners, and I spread my forelimbs out. I leapt backwards, in a graceful arc. Before I made it to the ground, I went into the light.

I love you.