I've Got Pain For Sale

I don't know how long I've been rushing through the pine trees. Seems like an eternity.

Everything was so silent. No gun shots. No explosions.

No screams.

I could almost hear the snowflakes breaking upon touching the ground.

I started to slow down.

My mind was blank as I felt the cold creep in my bones.

Once the cold gets in you, it never leaves-my father used to say.

And it was true. But he also said never to lose hope, the next village might just be across the next snowbank.

Oh, I used to wish I was just like you, pappa.

Strong in every aspect of my life.

I wished I could make you proud.

I...

These ski marks...ah. I stopped in grim realization.

I'm going around in circles.

So this is it.

I slid off my skis, something my pappa would frown upon, fell on my knees and lay in the soft snow.

Oh, I was so tired. My muscles melted in sweet relaxation.

I didn't feel cold anymore.

I don't feel anything anymore.

But I hear my favorite waltz!

Livet i Finnskogarna...

I hum and move my fingers with the rhythm. 1 2 3, 1 2 3, 1 2 3...

As it ends my vision blurs and I fall in peaceful slumber.

What a good way to go.

"...sir, I just...roll over..."

Hm?

"...get you..."

"..."

A childish voice?

Oh. The angels came to pick me up.

. . .

. . .

"...hold on..."

. . .


A/N: It's short. Very short, but it's only the first chapter, soo...this is going to be pretty interesting to write.
I've never actually tried to develop a story in English. :P
Comments and critiques are welcome!

Livet i Finnskogarna - google it! It's a very famous accordion waltz written by a very famous Swedish accordionist Calle Jularbo. :)