It was George Washington.
The snowman sat upon a thin layer of ice, each of his snowy white spheres like a full moon, glimmering in the light. Next to him sat a little boy, his eyes a pool of admiration at what he created. He slides two thick wooly mittens over the snowman hands and wrapped a knitted scarf around his neck.
CRACK! The boy slips, the ice surface splintering like a spiders web. The boy evaluated his mistake, dread filling his child heart like a broken dam.
CRACK! The sound erupted from beneath his hands, his eyes scanned for a way to evacuate, a way to safely deliver himself from the deadly grasp of the world beneath the ice.
Splash! His body submerged into the water, shock dulling his senses and paralyzing all movement. He looks to the surface a new layer of ice already forming. His body falls slowly, deeper and deeper like sand in an hourglass.
THUMP! THUMP! His heart beat against his chest as if to escape, but there was no escape, only the welcoming touch of eternal cold.
