4.26.2013

249 of 365

All who heard the story considered him the luckiest man alive. He had come to rest upright. The snow covering his face glowed, which meant he was near the surface. And lastly, one of his hands remained free. Flake by flake, he had cleared the snow from his face, took a much needed breath, and yelled for help. It was then he realized he was the furthest thing from lucky anyone who had survived an avalanche could get.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Compliment, critique, conceive, create...you know the drill. Thanks for stopping by and saying hello.