Cardboard Castle

Snow must now be piled three feet high. Drops of blood landed on the middle of my forehead, precisely timed, controlled by a demonic metronome.

Don't open your eyes. Don't let it know you’re aware of their blood on your forehead. Ignore whatever is bleeding on you; hopefully, it’ll go away or die. Snow falling and blood dripping are the only things happening in my pathetic existence. Blood, now racing over clots, flowing toward my eyes, nose, and open mouth, in silent horror. Blood's metallic taste was in my stomach being digested!

Peeking out of the box is impossible; snow’s too deep. Tape is miraculously holding it together. However, a cardboard roof can’t support three feet of snow. I’ll be crushed to death!

Heaving to vomit a stranger's blood, but there’s no response from the bleeder, yet. Hopefully, he's exsanguinated. I projectile vomited!

I shot up fully awake and my head hit the collapsed roof of my cardboard castle.

I'd been dreaming of blood, but it was melting snow. Filthy, melting snow soaked the cardboard. It was the culprit. Polluted snow muck filled my mouth. Blood is cleaner than this poison. Vomit threatening again, I untangled myself from the crusty, stinky blankets. Exiting the box and standing up might stop the vomit. I gagged, forcing the demonically-possessed bile down.

Awkwardly reaching for water, I fell, crushing my home. I was catatonic. I can move, but why should I? I've no desire to be Steve Stratton freezing to death in snow.