Chapter 5: Frozen Fool

After the night dawned and my eyes cleared. I saw it, the house. It was a cabin. The door was frozen shut, locked, and closed like my eyes. Letting the snow take me into its cold arms. Letting it drape over me and cover me. I don't know what I was thinking at the time or if I really was thinking at all, but the feeling of the cold on my back really did feel nice after a while. So I knocked and waited for a reply. Waited for the door to open up and for the snow to stop. For a warm envelope to hold me. As I crossed my arms my foot tapped quietly in the snow. I can't tell if there's any movement inside. Not like I care. So I stood there and waited. There's still numbness in my mouth from burning my tongue.

Then the door opened up into a warm home. An older man opened the door, a soft sweetness in his sunken eyes and a gentle smile. He stood there looking at me. My shivering body. I could barely tell his features. Though his hair was short and black with a couple grey streaks.

"Hello, Who are you?," he spoke softly with a deep and hardened voice. 

"Ezra, My name is Ezra. I'm lost, can I maybe come in? Sorry, I know it's late and you don't know me," I muttered. The words just fell out of my mouth. The cold seemed to delay my thoughts as I was welcomed into the warm building. "Thank you, Sir," I spoke through my shivers as I exhaled through my teeth.

"Of course, and you can call me Gregory, Kiddo. No need for formality," He chuckled lowly and grabbed a towel from the backroom and a hot cup of tea. The room was dark all around the only light source coming from the dimly lit fireplace. The walls creaked as the wind bashed against them. The Sound of the window shutter slamming open and closed pierced my ears as he handed me the cup of tea. Chamomile, I don't mind it, but it's weird. I don't know anyone who actually likes it. I sat there looking down at it as the steam hit my face. "Go on and drink it Kiddo. I'm sure you'll like the flavor," He smiled so gently but his face seemed so empty. As I took a sip of the hot liquid. The old man's face was just as blurry as the others. Just as fake and just as stupidly smug. Maybe his eyes are empty too. Just like Al's. Why would I know I refused to look up from his floor? The floor was hardwood. Cold and dark with stains of maybe food. Or blood I don't really know or care. Why should I?