Category : Stories

Sub Category : Drama

Part of Short Story Collection 

The snowstorm came out of nowhere.

It was supposed to be a quick hike. Just a few miles to the summit and back before dark. Owen had done this trail in the Appalachians a dozen times before, but never in February, and never with the wind howling like wolves through the pines.

Now he was lost.

He hadn’t seen a marker in hours. His phone had died—too cold to hold a charge—and the sun was long gone, swallowed by thick, churning clouds. His water bottle had frozen solid, and his jacket, once enough, was soaked through from falling into a drift up to his chest.

Panic was an ache in his throat and he knew he should’ve told someone. That thought echoed again and again, like the crunch of his boots over hard-packed snow. He’d just wanted one day to himself—one day to clear his head. He hadn’t told his sister, or anyone for that matter.

No one knew he was out here.

When the wind picked up again, screaming through the trees, he dropped to his knees. His fingers were numb and his legs barely moved. There was no shelter in sight—just white upon white, and the darkness folding in.

This is how people die, he realized.

He thought about his sister, Maddy, and how she always left him voicemails he never answered. How she begged him to come for dinner after their parents died in that car crash last spring. How he always made excuses—too tired, too busy, or too broken. The grief had buried him just as deeply as the snow now did.

He lay down, curling into himself. His heartbeat was faint thunder in his ears. His breath, slow and shallow. He closed his eyes, and let the cold take hold. But then there was a sound. Faint, then closer.

Bells and barking.

Owen opened his eyes, just as a beam of light pierced the darkness.

"HEY!” A man’s voice uttered, strong and urgent. “We got him!”

Strong arms lifted him. Blankets wrapped around his shoulders and a dog with big brown eyes licked the frost off his face.

“Easy, buddy. We’re Search and Rescue. Your sister called us, said she hadn’t heard from you and had a bad feeling that something was wrong.”

Tears welled in Owen’s eyes, freezing at the corners. He couldn’t speak, he just nodded, barely believing he was still alive. In the warmth of the snowmobile, wrapped in layers, he let the sobs come out. Not just from fear, or pain, but from something deeper: gratitude.

Gratitude for the dog nuzzling his face. For the strangers who risked their lives to find him and the warmth of human hands. But most of all—for Maddy. He had spent a year pushing her away, drowning in silence, but even after all of it, she had still reached out and still loved him enough to notice when something wasn’t right.

He thought of her face and her voice on the messages he ignored: “Call me, Owen. Just let me know you’re okay.”

He had a second chance now. A fragile, precious thing.

As the snowmobile roared down the trail, Owen made a vow—not just to survive, but to live. To show up. To answer the calls. To say thank you—not just with words, but with his presence. He would never again take for granted the people who loved him, because when the cold came, it wasn’t the gear that saved him and it certainly wasn’t luck.

It was love and he was so grateful to still feel it.