The alarm blared, dragging me out of the warm cocoon of my slumber. For the third time this morning, my hand fumbled for the snooze button, and for a brief moment, I considered sinking back into the sheets. But the thought of being late for work jolted me upright. My mind was a foggy haze. I was barely aware of the clothes I was throwing on as I hurriedly dressed for the day. I never was much of an early riser.

As I stumbled downstairs, I realized something was off. The house felt colder than usual, and there was no comforting smell of coffee waiting to greet me. I shrugged it off and made a beeline for the kitchen, thinking I’d just grab a quick bowl of cereal and get out the door.

But as I passed by the window, I froze dead in my tracks. The world outside was white.

“What the hell?” I whispered, blinking hard. Snow? In the middle of August? I rubbed my eyes, convinced I was still half-asleep. But when I looked again, it was still there. Snow blanketed everything—rooftops, roads, trees. I could feel the lines of confusion wrinkling my face like aluminum foil. How could there be so much snow? Surely I was dreaming. Or hallucinating? Had I forgotten to take my medication? No, I hadn’t. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but a terrible feeling of unease was beginning to creep its way into my bones.

It was as if I was moving in slow motion as I turned away from the window and made my way into the living room. I snatched up the remote and aimed it at the TV, desperate for some explanation. I knew in August blizzard would have to be on the news. Right? But the screen stayed black.

“C’mon,” I muttered in frustration, hitting the power button again and again. My hands started to shake. Maybe the batteries were dead? I beat the remote against my palm, trying to make it work. Nothing. I rushed over to the TV, yanking the power cord, checking to make sure it was plugged in. It was. I tried turning it on manually, but the screen stayed black like a foreboding darkness.

My heart began to beat frantically inside my chest. Why was I being so dramatic? “It’s just snow, Nikki. Calm down,’’ I told myself out loud, as if the sound of my own voice would somehow ease the rising tension. I tried to force myself to think clearly. Then I remembered my phone. Of course. I could call someone to see what was going on. With a trembling hand, I pulled it out of my pocket and tried calling someone—anyone—to see if they had seen the news. But there was no signal. Not even a single bar. “ You’ve got to be kidding me!” My voice came out shaky as I stared at the screen, willing it to connect. I walked around the house, going from window to window as I held the phone in the air. But of course, my efforts were to no avail.

I needed to get out of here, needed to figure out what was happening. I bolted upstairs, my heart still a captive drummer as I tore through the totes on the top shelf of my closet. My fingers fumbled with the heavy winter clothes, and I threw on a coat, a hat, gloves—anything to protect myself from the biting cold that awaited me outside.

I yanked open the front door, and a blast of cold air hit me like a ton of frozen bricks. I stood on the porch, teeth chattering as I stared out at the snow-covered streets. How could I have slept through this? How could I have missed a blizzard?

My breath came in short, panicked bursts as I forced myself to step into the snow. It crunched under my boots, a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the silence of the deserted street. The air was so cold that my lungs burned, but I needed to find someone, anyone, who could explain what was going on. I headed toward Mrs. Wheeler’s house next door.

When I got to her door, I knocked softly at first, then louder. “Mrs. Wheeler?” I called out, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. But there was no answer. I leaned closer, trying to peer through the windows, but all I could see was darkness. Again, the dread slithered into me, threatening to smother me at any given moment. “Mrs. Wheeler!” I shouted, pounding on the door this time with desperate fists. Still nothing. The silence was deafening, and the little drummer boy inside my chest picked up his rhythm – as if to warn me. But of what?

As I turned back toward the street, my breath caught in my throat, and my eyes widened in shock. There, at the end of the road, something glinted in the distance—a massive, snow-covered castle. A castle that had definitely not been there before.

“What the f—?” I stared at it, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. This wasn’t right. I lived in the middle of the suburbs. There were no castles here, not in the real world. And yet, there it was, its towers piercing the gray sky, its walls glistening with snow. A sense of déjà vu washed over me, and my heart skipped a beat. I’d seen that castle before. But where?

Suddenly, it hit me. The snow globe. The one my dad had given me for my seventh birthday. The one I’d kept all these years, even after he’d died just weeks later. I had to see it. I had to know if it was still there.

I ran back to my house, not caring that the snow was soaking through my boots or that my feet were almost completely numb. I slammed the door behind me and raced upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. My room was a mess from my frantic morning routine, clothes strewn everywhere. My eyes fell on the nightstand, where the snow globe usually sat. It was gone! I was about to become frantic when I spotted it. Or rather, what was left of it.

My heart sank. I must have knocked it off in my hurry to get ready. It lay on the hardwood floor in a broken, wet heap, shards of glass glittering in the morning light. And there, still intact, was the tiny snow-covered castle.

It was as if an unseen force had sucked every ounce of air from the room as I stared at it. A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “This can’t be real,” I whispered, but deep down, I knew it was. Somehow, impossibly, I was trapped in the world of that snow globe.