• The wind is howling...
    Your mother is ill...
    She moans and wishes only for your wellness...
    she dies in your hands...
    You're freezing and shivering...
    Your hands are blue and your face is pale...
    You wish for warmth, you feel uneasy...
    You wander around your house, looking for wood and matches...
    You drop on the floor, breathing is hard, your bones, they are frozen together.
    You cannot move, you cannot speak, you want warmth...
    Your last breathe of air is icy and cold... Your head drops to the floor, you die,die,die...
    ... Merry Christmas...