Francis Plays Outside

Once upon a winter morning, there was a boy called Francis. Little Francis who was 8 years, 3 months and 2 days old that day decided to go outside to play. It was really cold out, a good thick layer of snow had fallen overnight. He was so excited that morning though, he didn't bother with such things as a jacket, a scarf or mittens. He went outside to play in just his pajamas and wellingtons (he didn't want soggy feet).

Francis stepped outside - the snow all the way up to his knees. The white silky snow covering the entire neighbourhood and he was the only thing that was not white standing around that morning. Francis was careful not to be too loud. He didn't want to wake his parents who would definitely spoil his fun. A delightful feeling started to bubble in his little body. All this snow, all to himself. He didn't feel the cold at all, he was too excited to feel cold.

In his little wellingtons Francis ran in the snow all along his street. Well, it was actually more like hopping rather than running, as the snow was so thick he could barely move in a straight line. But he was having too much fun to care. Francis made snow balls and threw them at the snow-covered cars that looked like tiny bunkers. He imagined he was a soldier lobbing grenades at the enemies hiding in the bunkers. All the while the snow was still lightly layering more snow on everything - more for him to play with. He ran and he threw, he ran and he hid, then he did it all again. He did this for quite a while, entertaining himself immensely.

After about an hour Francis was tired. Having had all the fun to be had, he was ready to go home. So Francis looked up to see which way he should go but he didn't really know. The snow had continued falling and everything was white. All the houses looked the same. He was running (hopping) and playing so much he had not kept count of how many houses he had actually passed or which direction he actually went from his house. And really all the cars that looked like bunkers still looked the same. He couldn't recognize dad's red car because all of them was covered in white. Francis started to feel very cold now; his hands were shaking, his nose was running, his little body was shivering, even his knees were knocking against each other. Only his feet were not that wet in his wellingtons but that really was no comfort to him right now. Little Francis out in the snow alone, poor little Francis.