Connor Night/Chapter 2: Unfamiliar Territory

Unfamiliar Territory

Snow. Soft, white, unbearably cold; snow. 

Connor fell face first into a pile of snow. He picked his body up slowly. His hands already numbing. Where the heck? As he stood white substance dropped off his body and clumped to the ground like puzzle pieces, each fitting perfectly no matter the size. 

“Dad?” he said, looking around. He heard nothing but wind. “Maddie?” he asked, panic rushing through his numb arms. “DAD! MADDIE!” he yelled louder, but still only wind. What am I gonna do? I’m alone. 

Connor began to move, but realized his legs were completely submerged within cold compacted whiteness. At least I have shoes on.... What is this place? It can’t be Vermont...can it? Being raised in Vermont had made him almost immune to the cold, or at least Vermont’s cold. This cold was much more severe than anything he had ever felt. If I stay here and just think I’m going to die.... 

With that thought, he used all his strength to raise his legs out of the snow and began trekking his way through the piles, dragging his quickly numbing feet behind. The falling snow was beginning to pick up, making it impossible to see. His sense of direction was blurred by a sheet of powder, wind, and ice. Connor’s cheeks were red with heavy breathing. 

I don’t even know where I’m heading. I could be walking away from civilization! I can’t see anything!  Even if he was in some type of town or city he wouldn’t be able to tell due to the weather and completely covered white surroundings. There was nothing. 

Connor stopped in his tracks for a brief moment, catching his breath. He pulled an arm out of his short sleeves and wiped frozen snot off of his face. Connor placed his head between his knees, to allow his lugs to rest. In a quick motion he was standing upright a small knife at his throat. 

A rough voice spoke, “Who stalks me?” 

Panic and confusion entered his eyes. “I–my name is Connor,” he said. “I–I wasn’t stalking anyone!” 

“Connor?” the voice repeated. “Where are you from, Connor?” 

“I’m–I’m from Vermont! Is this Vermont?” he stumbled. 

Silence fell between them. “You mean Earth?” he asked, his grip on the knife loosened slightly.

“Yes!” Connor exclaimed. “Yes, Earth! I’m from–from Earth!” 

In swift movement the knife was released and Connor was thrown to the ground. He turned quickly to get a look at the person who was just about to kill him. He was a man, maybe two or three years older than Connor. He had black hair, and stumble growing on his face. He had a tan tunic, black pants, and boots on. The snow blocked any more of his appearance. The knife was held tightly in his hand. 

“Who are you?” Connor asked, panting. 

“That is not your concern,” he said. 

“You almost killed me. I think I should get a name,” Connor said. 

“I apologize for attacking you. I must go,” he began to move. 

“Wait!” Connor yelled. “Where am I? What is this place!” 

The man looked at him, questioning him. “Soarona,” he said quickly. 

“Wait! Just wait, please! What is Soarona exactly?” Connor asked. 

“A place much like your own, but vastly different,” he said, looking around. “I should be leaving.” 

“Wait! Wait! You’re just going to leave me here?” Connor asked. 

He looked at Connor again with that same questioning look, “I travel alone. Travel north. By morrow you will see a shack. There you will find help.” The man said nothing more and was swallowed by the white storm. 

That was a lot of help! Connor turned in the thick snow and started to head north. The freezing of his limbs distracted him from any other thought. Thoughts about this strange place, thoughts about his father, thoughts about Madison, or even the horrible thought of never being able to return home, were nonexistent in his mind. The storm began to pick up. The wind gained speed and power and the snow got heavier as he mudded through the layers and layers of whiteness. It was like swimming against a stream; constant pressure trying to stop him from succeeded. At this rate, if he lived, Connor would be sore for weeks. 

The gust of the cold pierced his ears and stole his breath. His eyes flickered and water fell down the sides. A sluggish feeling consumed him. His head began to droop as he pushed through the white matter below him. Connor was completely mesmerized by the swirling snow and ice that he walked through. I just want to looks so soft. No! No, I can’t fall asleep; not here! I’ll die. No, I need to make it.

As thoughts mixed in Connor’s mind his eyes began to thicken and an edge of blackness came into view. He felt a rushing headache reach his forehead. He went to move an arm to touch it, but when it got there he couldn’t feel it. Connor couldn’t feel anything–he was numb. Without any warning, his legs caved and he collapsed into a powdered-like bank of snow; it submerging his body within it’s tight cold grasp. 

The End

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