It bites like the cold.
We were all together yesterday, we were merry and joyful. No one could have thought that today, we would all be dead-
Yes, I am a dead man speaking, and even as I tell you this I am leaving - blood running from my veins and onto the pure snow.
After we had eaten we went to bed. It was cold, even inside, so we went in pairs to our rooms, turned the heating up and slept, piled up with quilts and blankets as the howling wind whistled around the window panes. After a couple of hours I awoke. I was freezing: cold to the bone. The room was entirely silent, and snow covered the floor- covered my face. I sat up slowly, rying desparately to prevent the covers from rustling. But they did rustle, they crackled and snapped like frozen grass. I flinched at every sound. The silence was deafeningly broken. And there was something in the room.
I could feel its presence, haunting the still, sleeping atmosphere, and it was not human. It was made from death and decay.
Outside the window the moon slipped out from behind a cloud and my heart beat so hard in my chest I nearly fainted- I wish I had! I saw a dark, twisted shape, its protruding snout dripping with something thick and red. I looked at it and it sensed my presence. It looked at me with its shallow, glassy eyes- its stare was as dead as reflection. Lifeless. It crept over to my low bed and its hairy muzzle reeked of destruction and misery. It grabbed my neck in its sharp teeth and hissed about the death of my companions- through the sickening pain I glimpsed the broken corpse on the other bed and knew the end was coming-