A ten-minute freewriting exercise. I know who I'm writing about. You may read it differently. That's the beauty of it.
Silence is Frozen
The flakes of snow fell to the ground in silence, like feathers floating to and fro, before resting on the white. She was breathing heavily, but there didn't seem to be a sound, it was as though someone had clapped their hands over her ears. She opened her mouth to cry out for help, they would emerge from the woods any second, but found herself waiting, savouring the silence, the pristine silence.
Flakes settled on her tongue, melting and mixing and being tinged red, cleansing her mouth and diluting the metallic taste that rang through her teeth. The liquids trickled down her throat, she tracked their icy progress, the sensation of cold, right down to her stomach, so cold that the body gets confused and wonders if it might not actually be something blistering hot instead.
She watched the trees be manhandled by those who chased her. Swiping at branches, hacking at them, kicking at roots. The trees' movements warned her that they were closing in, as their dark green needles were shaken to their icy grave by unyielding hands. She saw, rather than heard, the shouts. "There she is," she read on the leader's lips.
She didn't run as they waded towards her; she just turned away, so she didn't have to look. With her back to them, she watched the horizon, which was devoid of anything. All was white. The snow descended. She wondered if she could be white too, if it was possible that she would be blanketed, cleansed and covered, hidden from them, if she stood still long enough.
If she stood still long enough, it would end.
The void changed from white to black; a face full of boiling ice, up to her ears. Something pulled at her back; they pulled at her, trying to take her away from the void. She wouldn't let them take her, if she stood still for another minute, the snow would cover her and she would vanish. Another minute.
Violent tugs, at her back, her arms, her legs, her head. Pulling her hair, pulling her up out of the black.
No.
She resisted, fixing herself more firmly in the void. She imagined frantic screams, sobs, and roars. She imagined she could hear her heart beating, faster, faster, too fast.
The sounds stopped a second after she acknowledged they were real.
Everything stopped.