Siberian Diary

The protagonist wakes up to find himself hurt and in the coldest place he's ever been to. He racks his brain to cough out any recent memories and comes out successful. Read on to find how he got there and he's still alive.
This is a short prequel to the protagonist's upcoming diary entries. Watch out for more!


  I wake up with a jerk and its freezing cold. I find myself at the top of a heavily snow-covered mountain in the middle of nowhere. I am surrounded by a variety of trees, all of which are robbed of leaves. I’m lying flat on the snow and the sky is a dull blue. Theres no sun. I prop myself up on my left elbow with a lot of effort and engulf the environment with my half open eyes.

 The entire mountain incuding the forested plain beyond are covered in thick, thick layers of fresh snow. The dark pines are almost white and the land looks deserted.

  “Where the bloody hell am I?”

 I soon take note of the rising pain in my chest and lift my free hand to it. It feels cold under my fur coat. After scanning my brain, I slowly remember everything.


  Right before where I am right now, I was with a group of my business associates. I work, I mean worked, for Dimension Six, a government agency dealing with cases of the disappearance of soldiers, refugees, and of late, our very own officers. Anyway, my group and I were last working on the case of officer Robinson Carterm my associate and friend.

 He was last seen at an investigation camp in Black Forest, Germany on the case of a missing army officer. After his disappearance, we began working on his case, allowing the previous case to be shelved.

 A month later, after a whole lot of researching, data collecting and speculation, I finally solved the mystery. He was most likely lost, or by now dead, in the freezing hills of…..I froze…..Siberia….

 And that’s when the head of department, Sergeant Damien Grant sent me here to Siberia along with a few of his men in order to scan the land for a body, alive or dead. I remember flying in a military helicopter when the pilot abruptly stopped over a high, white mountain. The calm I sensed on the men’s face frightened and perplexed me. But before I could utter even a syllable, I was shot in the chest and then kicked off the hovering machine.


  Bloody hell! I was set up! Just like the others who’d successfully solved older cases of the missing.

I shake my icy head and try to sit up. I cannot remember a time when I felt this cold.

 I place my hand on my heart under my open coat. There is a dark, thick book in its under pocket. I gently remove it and hold it in my shaking hands. A cooled down, steel grey bullet lies pierced in its top left corner. I then look back at my chest and fall back with a sigh.


  My beloved, trusted diary.



The End

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