Hi, this is a very short prologue and I've got a lot to say so I might just make the chapter longer by saying those things.

First of all; I wasn't going to post this until I had finished the whole story but I always get impatient and afraid that someone else gets the same idea and writes it faster and better so I'm posting this now…

There will most probably be long gaps between updates so I can try to catch up with myself, because it's guaranteed that there'll be some major writer's blocs later or just ordinary busy-ness…

Also, unfortunately I didn't have the guts to give this to my English teacher until the last month of school so only the first three chapters are well revised, I hope that the rest doesn't have many errors, my teacher told me I'm doing as well as any English speaking coeval of mine… but maybe he just said that because I was such a teacher's pet…

You may be able to guess what the story is about from its title. I haven't done any research on the material; I feel that I know enough about it. Keep in mind that people are different so there's not necessarily right or wrong in it…

Let's just put it this way, people keep telling me to open up, talk and share and blah-blah-blah… I like sharing with you guys, odds are I'll never have to look you people in the face…

So basically, it's not just about what the title implies… I guess I could say it's a story of life. With choices. Some of them not so good. And I'm still working on that angst thing, though I think I'll never get that right…

All right, I've blabbered so much that I shouldn't ever have to put an author's note in the whole story again (yeah, right!), so on to it then…

Wait a minute… there's something I'm forgetting…

What is it?

…hmm…

Oh, yeah!: PLEASE REVIEW! (isn't that what we're all here for?)

Frozen Eyes

The blood red sun was starting to color the horizon. It reflected in the snow on the tree branches, sparkled and shimmered and made it seem like the trees were made out of crystal.

The passer-by driver stepped out of his car with a knot in his stomach. He made his way as fast as he could on the slippery road to the car that lay on its side on the side of the road. As he did, he got his cell phone out of his pocket. There was no connection. He cursed and then looked up. He laid a hand on the hood of the small, red Ford Fiesta. It was cold.

There seemed to be only one person in the wrecked car; a driver and the car lay on the driver's side.

He really had no way of getting the person out of there. He squatted and tried to see through the frozen windshield. He thought he could make out a head. He got his credit card out of the pocket of his coat and started to scrape off the frost. He shivered in the cold and suddenly his nearly frozen fingers dropped the card.

The eyes that were staring back at him were dead. He could tell, and he felt his stomach turn. He had never seen a dead person. Not like that. He had seen his own parents after they died but that was different. They were old and happy when they left.

The man was even more horrified because he knew the person. Not personally but he lived in Bayport –and that's where he was going after a business meeting in New York –and there were at least four faces that every townsman recognized.

This was one of them.