“You will not be going!” Dad’s stern voice tumbled through Peter’s head as he gripped his well-worn snowboard, and clutched the frost-covered goggles. Jumping into the swiftly moving ski lift, and swinging his flailing arms, he balanced his wobbling body. I don’t care what my parents think, he thought.

With his six-foot height and stocky build, Peter had been able to squeeze by many wondering eyes in the small town of Davos, an island among the cities, located in the corner of Switzerland. And although he was only 18, his eyes, the deepest ocean blue, gave a sense of surmisable knowledge. His Chestnut-hair, just reached his small eyes. With broad arms, and quick moving hands, he stood proud as the captain of the football team.
Riding up the enormous rocky mountain side, covered in white, fresh powder, and dappled in green, with ancient evergreen trees, images flashed before Peter’s eyes. Images of anger and sadness, as he remembered the brawl he had with his parents the night before. Ending with a door slam, and a quick-window escape, he had disobeyed his parents, and gone to one of the world’s greatest snowboarding slopes.
Ascending into the skies, like an eagle over the trees, the ski lift finally came upon the mountain top. Hopping off, he found the entire mountain, a snow trampled ground, almost empty, except for a few straggling snowboarders. Peter was taken aback. Walking up to the final snowboarders clearing the area, he asked, “What's wrong? Where’s everybody?”
“Mountains closed man,” the stranger replied. “What?!” Peter exclaimed as he jumped back. “Yeah, unsafe weather.” “I don’t care,” Peter replied, “I paid, and am going on this slope.” “Your risk man,” was the strangers reply, but a stupid one he thought, as he jumped onto the moving ski lift.
Peter, an angered mess after the encounter, ripped his board from the snow, ran to the edge of the mountain top, and hurled his body over the edge with the board flying below him.
Wind whipped by Peter, as snow rushed into his face and he gained evermore speed. “What were they talking about,” Peter thought aloud, “It’s great today,” as he thrust his arms into the air cheering for the fun.
With a magnificent tremble, the air filled with the cacophony of sirens and bells, as the wind changed direction and a dark gray storm rushed into the glowing sun’s rays. “No!” Peter shouted aloud, “I will not have this,” he said. Legs bending, back arching, Peter tilted forward, and put his weight even further on the board as it sped by, reaching speeds of 75 miles per hour.
Weaving in and out of the tall evergreen trees, Peter knew he had to make it to the rocky bottom slopes, and that his life may very well depend on it. Hearing a low rumble and turning his head, Peter saw the first burst of lightning.
“No,” he screamed, as the entire mountain top rumbled with the thunder. Bang, the sound reverberated through the hill and snow started rolling, trees started shaking and his body started to bounce. Coming from the slope above him, Peter saw the burst of snow, rocket from atop the mountain, racing to meet him, and plowing down anything that stood in its way. As little particles of snow brushed Peter’s face, blew into his coat, and stuck to his hands, he gripped his board tighter. The snow reached out it’s icy grip towards Peter chilling him to the bone. As the snow continued to push, It was like a forklift were shoving him along pavement. Turning and twirling around and around, the snow beat upon Peter sending him further and further. Then, in one final flourish, the snow lifted up his body, sent him flying forward, and encapsulated his body. Peter was under a new mountain-a mountain of snow.
“Why didn't I listen,” Peter gasped, as he lay flat in the snow. When the rushing frozen water had surrounded his body, the board made the smallest hole for him to breath and lay.  But feeling himself get dizzier and dizzier, he knew he was short on oxygen.  
As ten minutes passed, Peter’s vision began to dim and he thought, it must have been hours by now. Why has nobody come to help? They should be here. Finally unable to control the chip on his shoulder, Peter said, “I should have listened to my parents, and that crazy stranger.”
As fifteen minutes crawled by, Peter croaked, “I’m sorry Mom, and Dad,” and lapsed into unconsciousness.
Dogs barked and clawed restlessly at the ground, as men used tiny shovels to pierce the snow-made mountain. Scoop after scoop brought them closer to their target. “We’ve got him,” shouted the rescue workers as they scooped up Peter’s limp and lifeless body. Rushing to the helicopter sitting precariously on the snow, the men placed Peter into the side door and flew off to the hospital.
**************
Walking up to a green painted door, a gladdened father, dressed in blue, and looking sleep deprived, yelled to his wife, “he’s here.” Leaping from the house and rushing to their bandaged son, Peter exclaimed, “I am so sorry,”  to his parents as he shed hugs, and tears of joy. “We are just glad you are safe,” they replied. “Now come inside, and have some rest.” So, as he gripped his well-worn snowboard and clutched his goggles, he walked into his house.