I loved running along the river trail on winter mornings. The crisp air, the frost glazing the trees and ground, and the frozen waters instilled in me a sense of serenity that was a welcome respite from the unease I seem to constantly feel. For a few tens of minutes, I ran at peace with myself, blissfully unaware that soon I would be resting in peace.

Around midway through the trail, I saw a kid playing on the frozen river. I was about to call out that it was dangerous and the ice might be thin at spots when, with a loud crack, the warning was obviated by the surface giving way under the child. Fortunately, he or she (I couldn’t tell gender because the kid was all bundled up) was able to grab onto the ice around the hole so they weren’t swept away by the current. I dashed to the hole, heedless of the danger, and with a heave pulled them out.

Unfortunately, this was too much for the ice and I could see cracks spider-webbing beneath us. With all my strength I half-threw, half-pushed the sopping kid towards the shore and thicker, safer ice. I didn’t get to see whether they made it, as this action broke the ice underneath me and I was swallowed by the freezing, rushing waters.

It was cold. So cold. At least the cold wouldn’t last long, as it didn’t seem I would either.

I was wrong.

I could still feel it for an impossible length of time, long after I stopped breathing. How could I still feel it? How was I still conscious? How wasn’t I dead?

It lasted until the Search and Rescue crew pulled me out hours later. I could feel them, but I couldn’t see or hear. I could feel it as the doctors operated to save me, every moment of it. I guess they succeeded, because later I felt myself being put in a hospital bed rather than a morgue slab.

Slowly, I regained my senses. Hearing came first, and I overheard someone say that I was in a coma but in stable condition and expected to recover. That would have brought a smile to my face if I had the ability to move. Self-sacrifice is noble and all, but I’d really rather save the day and live to talk about it. At one point I also felt a small hand grab mine and a little girl’s voice whisper “Thank you,” before she was pulled away. Must have been the kid from the river.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Later, I’m not sure how long, I recovered my sight. I could see the curtains around my bed, the tubes stuck in my body, and some of the machines and people keeping me alive. Would have been nice to be able to turn my head or speak but I’m sure that would come with time.

At one point, I heard a voice off to my side outside my range of vision, which was weird since I hadn’t heard anyone approach. “ARE YOU BENADAM le NEFESH?” Oh, they’d only now ID-ed me? That would explain why my friends and family weren’t here. Something was really off with this person’s voice though, it sounded morbid somehow. “’le’ WITH AN ‘L’ NOT AN ‘I,’ CORRECT?” Ya, weird question. Wait, why were they asking questions when I couldn’t respond? “CAUSE OF DEATH: DROWNING AND FREEZING” Wait! Wait! I’m obviously still alive, aren’t I? “NOT QUITE. THERE WAS A SLIGHT MIX-UP WHICH DELAYED THINGS A BIT, FOR WHICH YOU HAVE MY APOLOGIES. DON’T WORRY, IT’S ALL SORTED OUT NOW. ” What are they saying? How’d they even know what I was thinking?

My question’s were answered rather promptly as the speaker entered my field of view. A tall, black-cloaked skeleton carrying a scythe, looked down at me with eye sockets empty but for blue lights. This was impossible…I don’t want to die…this had to be some sort of twisted joke. “IF IT IS, I’M AFRAID IT ISN’T A VERY GOOD ONE, BUT THIS WOULD PROBABLY BE THE PUNCH LINE.” With that the skeleton brought its bladed implement down on me.