It was bitter out. My body was shivering at a thousand miles per hour. You could probably hear the sound of my teeth chattering from across the globe. My eyes darted across the lake in front of me in hopes of seeing where Dad went, but he seemed to be long gone.

I turned back towards the cabin to retrieve my winter gear: my jacket, hat, gloves, boots, and ice cleats. Dad always made sure we were prepared for the storms that lay ahead. As I put on my boots, I slipped on my ice cleats over them to protect me from slipping and falling on the ice.

The lake was frozen solid, or at least that's how it looked. But Dad always taught me that you can never be too sure and to always proceed with caution. As I approached the lake, I saw that dad left his bag on the dock, and he would never go anywhere without it. His bag was the essential survival kit of cabin living: tools, first aid, food, water, knives, and a gun. Why would he travel without this?

Immediately I started to tremble at the thought that something may have happened to Dad. I looked around the cabin analyzing my surroundings. Something was strange about all of this: Dad’s footprints start at the cabin and stop at the dock. In that case, I began to make my way across the frozen lake.

“DAD,” I yelled as loudly as I could.

I repeated this for 20 minutes on the lake, until I heard a faint sound in the distance. There was rustling in the trees, and I could see a dark shadow ahead. It’s got to be Dad, I thought to myself.

As I approached the landing across the lake, there was cracking beneath my feet. The ice was not as solid as I presumed it to be. My steps needed to be watched carefully, but I was too eager to find Dad. I started bolting across the lake to the landing only to slip and fall just as I approached the area where the faint sounds were coming from.

“AH,” I winced in pain, holding onto my ankle which was now throbbing. “Dad if that’s you please come out, I’m hurt!”

Nothing.

No response.

It felt like hours that I was on the ice sitting in a throbbing pain. There was nothing else I could think of. It was like I was so worried about Dad and him leaving his bag behind, that I forgot to bring it myself. I had to start thinking of first aid, or I was going to freeze myself to death out here.

Quickly, I took my jacket off to expose my shirt underneath. It was a white, long-sleeved shirt that I was going to have to utilize. I tore off the sleeves, which was not as easy as it seemed. I grabbed two decent-sized sticks beside me in the bush that was barely covered in snow. I placed the two sticks onto my foot, covering my ankle on both sides. To secure this, I tied my sleeves together and wrapped them around the sticks. This was going to have to help.

But it didn't.

As I stood again upon the ice, I could feel the weakness in my foot.

“Gracie, is that you?”

“Dad!”

But he was nowhere in sight. Just then a dark figure approached from behind. It had no shape of form, just a body of black smoke. At least that’s what it looked like.

I screamed, as loud as I possibly could, and started bolting across the ice. But I forgot how weak my ankle was, how in pain I was. As I ran from the dark figure, I could hear the cracks of ice beneath me.

My knees bucked and my legs gave up, the pain was too unbearable. As I started to slow down, the cracking in the ice became more intense.

The dark figure was screaming my name, Gracie. It also sounded just like Dad. I turned to face the figure when —

The ice cracked rapidly, and my body was slipping into the lake. I tried my best to hold onto the ice around me, even if my body was dangling in the cold water. The dark figure began lifting my arms and I slowly slipped thru the ice and into the lake. “DAD!” I called for one last time.