CELESTE MCDERMOTT HEALEY
Vancouver Island, Canada / Student
In the high winds of an alpine crossing, I hold the hand of a young boy as we pick our way across a rocky ridge. There is white everywhere: flurries in our faces with the wind whistling and pulling at my hair. Towards the far side of the mountain, my brother stands beside an alpine lake and I need to get to him before he dives in, for I know that's what he is about to do. If he does, I know that he will not surface and I cannot scream a warning. Beside me, a tug on my hand and the young boy looks up at me with whirlpools for eyes and suddenly he is wrenched from the grasp of my hand as the snow beneath him gives way. I stand, helpless, as he falls into a rocky ravine. I am screaming, soundlessly, as dark red blood pools from beneath his head, staining the snow around him.