Annabelle Wong Hin Sang (9) | STAFF REPORTER
The man turns his gaze to the smoky skies. It’s the same sky he wakes up to, and the same one he sees before drifting to sleep after hours of forcing himself awake. He cups his calloused hands together, holding them out as grey ash slowly drifts towards what is left of their barren planet.
He quietly looks around for the boy, as sounds of waves lapping against the shore fill the world’s empty silence. In the distance, the man spots a small figure examining the ground.
“Look!” the boy cries out, pointing closely to the growing layer of ash on the ground.
The man tries to muster a smile. He tugs the collar of his shirt to cover his nose as he stares off into the horizon. A tiny ball of red light shines dimly behind a blanket of dark clouds, as it slowly inches closer to the edge of the sea.
“I know, but be careful,” he calls back in reply. “We need to leave soon.”
“Papa, is it snowing?” Rather than wait for a reply, the boy reaches down, as his tiny hands swoop across the seashore and into the air above.
The man’s eyes widen as he leaps forward, but he’s too late.
The boy coughs violently as ash fills his lungs. He falls to the ground, knees digging into the sand.
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As they turn their backs, dark waters rush up against the shore, instantly erasing the print in the sand left by the boy. They trudge back towards the deserted road, weaving around leftover carcasses of dead animals picked apart by scavengers and empty cans of food.
“But I remember you said snow doesn’t hurt people,” the boy whispers, staring at his battered shoes as they walk along the dirt road.
The man sighs. “This snow is different. Different from the kind we used to have.”
“Different?”
“Yes, well, everything was different before.” He ruffles the boy’s hair, dusting away ash as it falls upon their worn jackets. “Our snow was real. It was cold, and kids would play in it when they had a chance.”
The boy’s eyes widen. “Really?”
A soft breeze whistles in the air as their jackets rustle in the hushed wind. The man fixes his gaze ahead on what seems like an endless path to nowhere, a path they have been following for a long while now.
He looks down with a tired, melancholy smile. “Yes. I’m sure you would’ve liked it, too.”
