This story, although short in length, will still send an eery feeling up your spine. It still makes me shiver just to think of that night. That night, in May it was, as if to say that any other month would not have been as spooky. It was an extremely warm night, for May in Alabama, anyway. I had had a nightmare and being only 6 years of age, I crept into my parents large master bedroom to recapture my thoughts and perhaps get a few winks that night. I remember climbing in the bed on my father's side and snuggeling close to his arm. After a few minutes of blinking my eyes wide open, I began to feel very, very cold and almost freezing. For a moment I thought nothing of it, then I realised something was odd do to the high temperature that blew in from the open patio deck door.

I grabbed my father's hand in attempt to keep warm somehow, but it was then that I realised that it was him that was so cold. His hand was like ice. I remember being slightly hoorified at that mome! ! nt and I had to let go of his hand for I was getting so cold. I leaned over a tried to whisper something silently into his ear, perhaps to wake him, but he didn't stur. As young as I was, I had an eery feeling and I quickly held my face over his mouth to see if I could feel his breath. Nothing. Instead of being rational, as children usually are not, I stood from the bed in a fury and rushed from the room screaming. when I reached the doorway, I stopped abruptly, as I heard my mother yelling in a tired frenzy, asking me what in the world I thought I was doing. To my amazment, I blinked my eyes, and looked over to my father's side of the bed. He wasn't there.

My mother was alone in the bed, and he had never been there. I immidiatly began to cry. My mother told me that it was just a nightmare and that I should go back to bed and try to get some sleep. She comforted me ,and it seemed that when I attempted to tell her what had happened, my words came out in nothing but a bummbling ! ! mess. The next morning, I woke very early, still not being able to let that experience leave from my mind. I walked into the kitchen, seeing my mother, knelt down on the floor, crying. When I asked her what was wrong and why she was so upset, she held my hand and told me that my father had been killed on his flight home. He had been on a business trip to Chicago, and he was heading for home the night before. Seems that the plane had descended to a terrible plunge after losing all engines in a snow storm. Because of the blizzard, the plane was not recovered until late that night with no survivors. when it was finally found, amongst miles of ice and snow, each passenger was found frozen.