In the winter of 198-
When I was a young whipper-snapper of the age of twelve or so, my little sister (who was about eight at the time) and I went outside to play.
Living in Canada, when you go outside to play in winter, it means several layers of clothes, and putting carrier bags inside out boots to keep our feet dry. We had SNOW.
This particular winter was a harsh one. We had about a meter of snow on the ground for many months, and living in a rural area, surrounded by farmland, the winds were terrific, and created massive snow drifts. I remember tobogganing from the first storey window of our house. My dad still pulls out pictures taken from inside the ground floor kitchen – snow completely blocked the windows. But I digress.
On this particular day, we awoke to a beautiful, bright day. The storm of last night was over, covering everything with a fresh 30cm of snow. It had drifted to huge heights (huge through the eyes of a twelve year old, anyway), it sparkled brilliantly in the sun, and it looked to be the type perfect for building snowmen and snow forts. (Packy snow we called it, in our more innocent times. “Awesome! It’s Packy!” we would yell.) It wasn’t too cold, only about minus ten degrees Celsius, so we knew we could play outside all day.
We ran and jumped, built forts, knocked them down, threw snowballs and generally had a great time. I knew my childhood would last forever, and nothing could ever go wrong in such a stunning white world.
I decided that a massive drift at the far corner of our property was begging to have a tunnel carved out of it. It was ripe for a series of interconnecting tunnels, and would prove a fantastic way to avoid being hit by snowballs. I climbed to the top, and started digging. I knew that by digging straight down to the ground, I would have an awesome hidden entranceway. I was about two meters from the ground.
I dug and dug, getting deeper and deeper. For some bizarre reason, I decided it would be better instead of digging out from under my feet, to lie down outside the hole, reach in, and scoop snow out, throwing it out behind me. So I got out, and jumped into the hole. Headfirst.
I landed in the soft snow, no worse for the wear, apart form having the blood rush to my head, and cold melted snow dripping down the cuffs of my snowsuit onto my legs. I reached out my arms, gave a mighty heave to get out. Nothing.
I was trapped.
There was no way I could get out of this snowdrift. I was going to be discovered in six months, frozen solid, by my dad, when the snow melted enough for me to be seen. I could already feel the cold grip of death, freezing my bogies in place. Panic set in. I pushed harder and harder. No luck.
I started to cry, and screamed for my sister. She heard my yelling, and came running. She could only see the soles of my feet when she was only nearly on top of me. She started screaming, and I told her to get help. She ran away, yelling for my dad. I waited.
Suddenly, someone was pulling me up by the ankles, ever so gently. I helped by crying harder in relief. I was free!
I boosted myself free the last foot or so, and tumbled out onto the top of the drift. I mumbled a ‘thank you’ through my tears, and looked up to my dad, who surely had rescued me.
No one was there.
The door to the house slammed shut, and out came running my little sister, with my dad in tow. She had got help, and was running towards me. My dad started running, but when he saw I wasn’t stuck, he slowed down.
“What happened?’ he asked, when he got to within speaking distance.
“I fell in, but someone pulled me out,” I said. I was getting a bit freaked out, now, and started looking around. Not a soul except my sister and dad for as far as I could see.
My dad then scolded me for playing dangerously, and told me it would be better to dig a tunnel in the side of the drift, near the top, so I could drop snowballs down on approaching enemies.
I decided playtime was over, and I went inside, took off my boots and carrier bags, and asked mum for a hot chocolate. She said no.
I still have no idea how I got out of that hole, what benevolent being helped me. My little sister said it must have been Jebus.
WOOOooooOOOooo….
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 13:14, 3 replies)

"Hey" from an Oshawa chick.
Must have been an old trapper or indian keeping their eye on you. They liked your pioneering spirit! Do you ever get back to your old neighbourhood? Know its history? I love winter here in Ontario and used to love building snow forts when I was a kid. I felt pretty ripped off when I lived in Kent in '73. 1" of snow for 1 day, :( . Here's a Timmy's large double-double. Ooops, you don't drink coffee? Here have some poutine from Star Burger in Whitby, extra curds and gravy. Pepper?
(OGH, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 14:05, closed)

@OGH
Oh, that Timmy's is hitting the spot! Cheers!
Whenever I get back to Canada, I do tend to drive past the old place. It's still a big, creepy house, but it still feels like home.
I do kind of like the winters here in the UK - I don't have to shovel rain.
(w4I4q1O1 was hard at work on, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 14:36, closed)

It was GG
Yup, Gary Glitter was hiding in the snowdrifts. You were lucky your dad came out or you'd have been glittered good and proper.
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 14:57, closed)