Welcome to Gaia! ::

This is a short story I wrote awhile ago because I wanted to try out a first person, present-tense story.
Comment if you wish biggrin

------

The air is biting cold as the snow nips at my toes. My old, worn winter boots do nothing to help. The socks I had donned this morning are wool, but they also do little to keep my feet warm. I trudge through the thick snow bank that is the barrier between my backyard and the woods that lay beyond. I am leaving the warmth of my home to get wood for the fire. My wife is out at the marketplace; she left our daughter with a neighbor.

I sink up to the middle of my shins in this deep snow. The stinging at my ankles assures me of impending frostbite. My ax is slung over my broad shoulder, and some rope is looped onto my jeans as I continue on. I will not let my family freeze. I am heading for the center of the woods, where the trees are more dense. I will come back in the spring and plant some new trees to replace these ones that I am taking now.

I find a tree with a long, thick trunk. Perfect for firewood. I just have to make sure it’s dry when I need to use it. We are low on firewood, but still have enough for a day or two. I swing my ax once, slicing roughly into the trunk. I have to use much force to yank it out. I swing again, and again, as beads of sweat form and course down my face. I am glad I remembered to wear my gloves; they help me avoid blistering my hands.

After chopping down a considerable amount of wood I pull some rope from my belt loops. I tie the logs together, leaving some rope off the end so I can drag the wood behind me. I begin to make my way back, hoping my wife has returned.

Halfway to the snow bank barrier I see a wild dog standing in the snow, small clumps of the icy substance sticking to its back legs. It is just standing there, head down from what I could see. I carefully inch closer and the dizzying scent of blood hit my nose. Perhaps the dog had caught some rodent? My human curiosity made me draw closer. There was too much blood for whatever this animal was dining on to be vermin.

As my right foot sinks into the snow beside the dog a low growl pours from its throat. It turns its head towards me, teeth bared in a snarl and blood dripping from its mouth. I stare in disgust and disbelief, but not at the dog. I am staring at its prey.

Hot, crimson blood stains the pure white snow around the body of the victim. I hit my knees, sinking deeper into the icy snow. The dog growls once more, louder this time, to which I pull my ax off my shoulder and nudge the animal with it. It takes off, kicking up powdery clouds of snow as it runs from the metal that could easily mean death.

I run my hand along the fabric the victim is wearing; it is clear the dog had been consuming a human. A human woman, who is wearing a long, yellow dress. It is just like the one my dear Rosemary had been wearing when she departed earlier. This couldn't be my wife though. I refuse to believe it.

There is so much evidence however, forcing me to fear the worst. My fingers touch the wound in her side, warm blood soaking my hand. This is not how she died, the blood isn’t coursing, just dripping from the gash, never gaining any speed or volume. I touch her face softly. There lies blood, slightly crusted, and just above this dried, rusty red is a hole. The hole is a bit smaller than the size of a bullet for my hunting rifle.

My eyes well up with tears as the cold bites at my cheeks. I still do not want to believe this is my Rosemary. One thing makes it impossible to deny however. I run my hand along her arm, just staring at that porcelain skin. No one has skin more fair than my dear wife. No one except my young daughter, who will never see her mother again.

Thank you ^^