The sky was dull and gray, with a melancholy atmosphere falling upon the town. And to add onto that, winter had stricken. There were scarcely any people walking amongst the streets, for who would want to feel such an eternal coldness? But when there were, they were all sullen, with their hollow cheeks and solemn appearances. They stalked through the streets like sick cats, entering and exiting the slow shops in search of food for their families.

William was one of them.

He slinked in and out of stores with one or two $5 bills and a few coins jangling in the pocket of his brown trousers. The city was quite isolated from the cities of light, which were rather large, lively, and vivid in color. The people there had warmth and luxury, while William and his fellow citizens remained suffering in the shadows. When winter first arrived, he had proposed an idea--they would ask the wealthier cities for aid for more comfort and a better quality of life. But the idea was quickly shut down, as the humble people didn't wish to weigh anyone down with the responsibility of helping such a small, rather irrelevant town. Nevertheless, the food supply was low, and many families remained huddled up in their beaten homes. If they were lucky, they had a fire burning in the fireplace, with the glowing flames coloring their insipid homes, where the wallpaper peeled and the old, cold floorboards creaked.

William didn't bother to propose the same idea again; they would reject it again--he was sure of it. But in his vapid bed, he dreamed radiant dreams of a new and improved life. The birds were chirping, and the grass was lucidly green. However, to his demise, he always woke up and the drab reality hit him again.

He battled the cold winds, clinging onto his hat with one hand and his raggedy coat with the other. Pushing the shop door, the sign that read, "Jackson's Goods" became unhinged on one side and dangled from its one screw that hadn't quite unscrewed, yet. The door closed behind William with a sad, unwelcoming jingle of a bell. The only person there sat at the cash register, bored and seemingly unamused. William nodded to him but didn't receive a reply from the old man. He then grabbed a loaf of bread, day dreaming about a world where butter and sugar wasn't so expensive, so he could put either on a slice of toast. William shook this thought out of his head, for it would do him no good and would simply drive his desire for better food. He approached Old Jackson and fished out a quarter from his pocket.

"How's life, William?" the old man finally spoke. He took the quarter and dropped the loaf of bread, possibly stale, into a brown paper bag.

"Life's life. This winter is awfully hard."

"Nothing comes easy."

William licked his chapped lips and nodded subtly. "Nothing in this town comes as easy as the city folks. You think they'd mind if we ask them for some help with money?"

Old Man Jackson scoffed, then shook his head as if the idea were ridiculous. "It doesn't matter if they'd help us or not. We're not something for them to take care of. We'll be fine."

"Just for the winter? We're all going to freeze to death soon if we don't speak up."

"You tell them that." the old man said, pushing the bag towards William. His words referred to the rest of the town residents.

"Keep the change, sir." William said as he took his bread. But he had already locked the quarter in the cash register.

William exited the store, feeling Old Jackson's disapproving eyes on his back. If he looked to the right, he could make out the faded outlines of the skyscrapers of the other cities that pierced the sky. He wondered if it was gray there too, or if it was more colorful like how it was in his dreams. As he began to make his way back home, feet pattering on the sidewalk, he thought about creating a petition to see if people would then agree with his wild idea now that winter had caused such an inconvenience. William was unmarried, so he lived alone in his quiet little home. He had to call it "home," though it didn't feel much like one. Where was the warmth? The welcoming "home sweet home"?

He dropped the paper bag on the kitchen counter. Then, he managed to find a wrinkled piece of paper and a nearly empty pen. Still covered by his hat and coat, William set out on a journey from door-to-door to see if the harshness of the winter and the dire condition of the town had changed people's minds about his brilliant yet unpopular idea.

The first stop was Mrs. Thompson, who was a widowed elderly woman, but she still kept her late husband's last name and the title of "Mrs." to avoid being reminded of his death. William knocked thrice with his pen and paper clutched in his free hand. The wooden door creaked open--the last time the hinges had been oiled was when Mr. Thompson was still alive. Mrs. Thompson was wrapping a thin cardigan around her body. White curls of hair peeked from beneath her knitted hat.

"Hello, William."

"Afternoon, Mrs. Thompson. Mind signing this? I'm making a petition to go to the bigger cities to ask for help for the town."

Mrs. Thompson glanced down at the crumpled piece of paper, then back up at William. "What, like Valoria? They're not going to help; they only want to help themselves."

Just as she was about to close the door, William put his hand on the semi-splintered wood. "How do you know if we never say anything to them?"

"We're nothing for them to worry about." is all the elderly woman says before she shuts the door on both the relentless wind and William.

William goes from door to door for what seems nearly like an eternity, but with no success. All think the same thing--the cities won't help the town, so why bother asking?

But he visits that old, beat-up store again, with Old Man Jackson and his crusty, hard loaves of bread, looking for some hope. Some light into darkness. The bell hanging above the door jingles again when William opens the door.

"Hello, Old Man Jackson. Mind signing this? I want the cities to be aware of our condition."

Old Man Jackson doesn't speak, but his actions speak for him. He takes the pen and scribbles his initials onto it. Messy, sure, but it's enough for William to gather up more determination to seek help for his old, little town.

Pushing through the unyielding winds of the upcoming blizzard, William runs like hell to get back home. His car only had about a half tank of gas, but it'll surely get him far enough to reach the nearest city. He grabbed his rusty keys that he hadn't touched for so long, as the gas prices had just recently skyrocketed. He deliberately brushed the snow off his aged carp, dumping it into heaps on the icy ground. William hurriedly got in and began to drive off, leaving behind his neighbors to watch him go, go, go from their frigid windows. He'd never been outside this little town before, so he just drove straight on the road, chasing the skylines until they became closer and clearer.

He finally reached it.

Yes, it was still winter there, but at least the people looked warm. It must've been some sort of holiday there, as there were colorful decorations of a jolly old man with a white beard and a tall, green tree speckled with round balls and kissed by the fluffy snow. A few city folks turned their heads to look at William and his shabby vehicle, but he was too mesmerized by all the bright hues that he didn't even care to notice. He parked the car in front of a bakery smelling of cinnamon and gingerbread. If warmth had a smell, then it reeked of it. William got out of his car, taking off his hat in astonishment, as he entered the bakery. None of the bread was stale there; they were all freshly baked.

William's eyes met the fancily written price tags of the baked goods, but his empty pocket ached. They were all too expensive. A woman with a warm smile approached him, but she wasn't an employee. She was a very well-dressed customer, sporting a fur coat and jewelry galore. William looked like a peasant compared to her.

"It's all too expensive, isn't it?" she asks.

William nodded.

"It's alright, dearie. I'll pay for you. What do you want?"

"I'm from out of town, and the people there are starving. I'm trying to get them to come here for help and food, but they won't leave."

The woman nodded understandingly, fumbling with her purse. "I'll buy $200 worth of goodies, alright? That should feed them for a good while. Where are you from?"

"Ashford."

"Wow, I've never heard of that before. Well, welcome to Valoria!"

William thanked the woman, and she purchased several large bags of baked goods. She helped him carry them to his car but paid no attention to how old and poor it looked. It seemed as if she were happy just to help. William closed the trunk, but he was speechless. He didn't know what to say nor how to thank her.

The woman flashed her million dollar smile again. "Be careful when you drive. A blizzard is coming soon."

"Thank you so much, Miss." was all William could say.

As much as he didn't want to leave such a brilliant, animated city, William didn't quite hesitate to get back home. There were mouths to feed for crying out loud!

But as he drove closer and closer to Ashford, the winds raged on, growing stronger every inch he drove.

And as he reached that old, little town, he was met by mounts of snow with the frail shops and homes destroyed.

And everyone was beneath the ice.

William froze, and the aroma of baked goods remained floating in his car.

If they had simply said something earlier.

If they had simply asked for help from the cities.

They may have been able to survive the winter and the fall of Ashford.