Paul's heart raced along with him, as he gracefully and skillfully skiied down the hill as fast as he could.

It was only the bunny slope, no wonder it was a cinch.

As he slipped quickly through the night's woven, sparkling masterpiece, the navy sky melted into shades of violet and purple. The moonbeams bounced wildly off his gleaming skis; the starlight reflected off his glimmering poles. His hair of floating, flowing chocolate embraced the passing wind of the cool, crisp,

night air. He still had his shades on, but he didn't have a hat, he never did, and he just realized that. But moving on, he thought to himself...

Nothing stood between him and his goal to reach the bottom of the hill. It was so easy to get to where he was going, wasn't it? He always reached the bottom when he skied in the morning and the afternoon, what was so different about skiing to the bottom of the mountain, but in the evening? Night skiing, he thought. What a concept.

Little did he notice that the surrounding mist was growing perfidiously thicker and thicker. The once loyal and helpful lights were getting dimmer and dimmer. The once watchful moon voluntarily hid itself behind a dark, looming, ominous cloud, only to be partially seen. Paulie allowed his mind to wander where it

would go, and he began to wonder at the strange change in the once pleasant atmosphere...

"Everything is getting so bloody dark...what's happenin'? And how come it's taking such a long time to get the bottom of the hill? I should have reached it by now..."

"Don't tell me...God, don't tell me!" Paul's mind had wandered too far for his own good.

But then again, so did he.

He quickly caught his fleeting thought and mind and kept it still, just long enough to think.

A light bulb in Paul's mind brightened.

"Ohhh, don't tell me that it had to happen to me!" Paul said to himself as he hockey-stopped on the slope. He looked at his surroundings. Trees were no longer in their right place. The snow somehow looked different than before. Everything was so unfamiliar. He was on a different and isolated part of the mountain. His worst fear had materialize into his virtual nightmare, unexpectedly, right before his eyes.

He was off course.

He was lost.

"Damn, I shoulda gone done with George." He gently smacked himself in the head in annoyance and irritation. "Boy, am I in trouble now! What are they gonna do to me...I'll be wrong again. More teasing. I don't know if I'll be prepared for that eventuality. *Sigh*," Paul mumbled to himself. "Now since it's dark,

there's no more sun, and when there is no more sun, no more heat. No more heat...no more...Paulie! Crap, I don't want to stay here forever!" Paul sat down miserably and took off his skis.

"What am I gonna do?" He questioned the mountains and the snow. No response.

"It's so cold!"

~~~***~~~

By now, about an hour past the time the Fabs were to become a quartet once again, three of the Beatles were panicking and worrying. Paul had been gone for over an hour!

"George! What were you thinking??"

"You know that Paul is the rational one, John! He wouldn't just leave us here to wait! It's not Paul's style. You, on the other hand, would..."

"Mates, if we keep fussing and fighting, what will get accomplished? There's no time for this! I say we go and look for him," Ringo said.

"No, not till Geo here understands that it's his fault!"

"John!! Ok ok! Christ, it's all my fault! Ok, are you happy? So sorry. Next time you see Paul, tell him he shouldn't trust me anymore and nor should you, you got that? Is that what you want?" George retorted angrily. He crossed his arms, frustrated. John looked at this and responded.

"Look Geo...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you mate. No, leaving him there wasn't smart, but it wasn't your fault..."

"That's ok John, I know you're concerned for Paulie. I am too..."

"All right then lads, should we go and look for him?" Ringo asked.

"Ok, up the lift we go!" John announced, heading toward the lift.

~~~***~~~

"Oh crap...I'm not getting any warmer. I can see my breath again. Where am I? I hope John, Geo and Richie are looking for me...Oh no, what if they never find me! What if instead something happens to them?? What am I to do?? Where will I go? I'll--brrr! Cold cold cold!" Paul interrupted his own train of

thought as a cold, apathetic gust blew.

The winds picking up, the temperature's probably dropping, mine probably is too...Paul remembered about Geo's extra gloves and John's extra scarf. He put those on, trying to warm himself more. He shivered incessantly and crawled his way (taking his skis and poles too) to the nearest tree to protect himself as much as he could from the wind. He leaned his skis and poles against the tree.

Heh, John's going to kill me if I lost his precious scarf...but it's so bloody cold, even being protected by a tree! He rubbed his hands and arms to try to warm himself. How are they going to find me, the mist is too thick to see through? Best to stay put when you're lost, but what if where you are can kill you?? *Sigh* ...but I'm so tired...I want to--*yawn*--stay up and wait from them...whenever they get here. But they'll find me, I think...I hope.

Paul sat up and rested his head (his left side) on his arms and rested his arms on a small pile of snow. He sighed again to himself; his now semi-warm breath gently swirling around his head, only to be blown away by another gust of cold wind. Paulie shivered again, but not as intensely as before, closed his

eyes, and patiently waited as he drifted off to sleep.

~~~***~~~

"Paul!! Where are ya?"

"C'mon, c'm out c'm out wherever you are!"

"Yeah, ya bugger! Get your frozen butt out here! You can't live forever on the hill, ya fool!"

"John!"

"Ok, ok, ok...Paul!! Where'd ya ski off to?!"

"It's no use mates," Ringo hockey-stopped on the mountain. John and George followed suit.

"But what are we going to do? He hates the cold, he's going to freeze to death!" George said like a helpless, little child.

"We'll just have to keep looking for him then! Push on lads, we have to!" John said boldly.

"John! We can barely see through this bloody mist, and I'm starting to freeze myself!" Ringo shivered a little.

"Yeah John, and did you bring your glasses? They're probably all foggy right now!" George said, leaning against his poles.

"I have my contacts in, and I can see perfectly well, George!" John retorted.

"Um, John, George is over there, I'm Ringo," Ringo said slowly. He pointed toward George.

"Sure John, you can see perfectly fine!" George replied sarcastically.

"*Sigh* So I'm bloody near-sighted, sue me...but what about Paulie? He'll either die of the cold, starve to death, or get scared by something and start running around like a burning spastic 'til he passes out!"

"Ah, John, that's where you're wrong. Paul won't starve!" George said with a smile.

"Oh, so he'll just eat snow the whole time??" Ringo asked skeptically.

"Check your pockets lads," George requested of them so he could prove a point. Ringo and John both looked at each other with doubtful countenances.

"Go on, check them! Believe me, you'll be surprised," George insisted.

Ringo and John quickly checked their concealed jacket pockets, and pulled out plastic bags.

"What's the hell have you been putting in me jacket??" John asked.

"*Sigh* You can't see it? C'mon Ringo, you know that those are--"

"--scones." Ringo finished.

"Scones?? What the heck?" John asked as he examined his bag. It was true.

"Me mum always prepares me for things like this, even in Hamburg, America, everywhere. I have to have some scones with me all the time. I left the sandwiches at home though..."

"George, how did you get it in here?" Ringo said, pointing to his pocket.

"I told you, I'm a magician!"

"Well, hopefully Paulie will notice and make good use of them. Sometimes, I worry about that guy. C'mon lads, we still have to find him!"

John, Ringo and George quickly made three more rounds on the same mountain, but couldn't find their mate to complete their quartet.

"I take it this is not a good sign." Ringo started as they stopped once again.

"What else are we going to do? He couldn't have gone far..." George said.

"Yeah, and we checked the hill four times!" John added.

"Yeah, my legs are killing me!" George quickly augmented.

"Make a decision then! Do we go on or not?" Ringo asked, waiting.

"Can we even go on ourselves?" John cynically remarked.

"Isn't it better to make yourself more prepared though?" George figured. "It might save Paulie, and then, if we're ready, we don't have to worry about something happening to ourselves..."

"But George! He'll be here, out here, all alone..."

"In the cold," the three of them chorused.

"Well, he has your scarf doesn't he? And your pair of gloves, right?" Ringo asked.

"That's right..." George said contemplatively.

"But he has no hat!" John responded. "His pretty little head will freeze!"

"I guess that's all right, I think Paul's smart enough to know what he's doing, right? He's staying put, and tomorrow we can look for him, ok?" An optimisitc Ringo started down the hill.

"I just hope that he wait for us..." George hoped.

"Sure he can wait, if he actually lives though the night first!" The pessimistic Beatle said, cutting off all conversation until they got home.

~~~***~~~

Nearly 9:45 pm, and Paulie was still on the hill, sleeping soundly, unaware of his surroundings. The wind blew at the same speed as before, but not as frequent. This was a good sign...but the thing is...

...it started to gently snow.

Tiny white flowers of ice began to fall from the diamond-strutted sky; they fell so lightly, it seems they floated in the air, then landed silently on the unstirring ground. Paul's hair was now speckled with snow. He continued to sleep peacefully, dreaming perhaps about the beach and a warmer climate.

Then, from the sky...a mysterious, translucent spirit-like figure descended. The wind had no effect on her, no matter how hard it blew. The wind was quietly ignored. The figure floated down to the ground with exquisite and seemingly instinctual ease. She knelt down beside the motionless Beatle; her immaculate,

white tunic which fell past her ankles concealed her fragile knees as they disregarded the chilling snow.

Cascading down past her shoulders was her long, shimmering hair. Although she was as pale as clean-cut marble, her cheeks were slightly tainted with rose. She was very young and beautiful. Pellucid pools of aqua and blue could not compare to her vitreous, sapphire eyes that looked as pleasant as a gentle

summer's rain.

"I do not want to do this...it is not right..." she turned her head away, trying to hide part of her guilt and sadness. "I am forced to be blind to gender, race, age, appearance, personality, yet as I lay my eyes upon him...he is so young, so sweet, handsome, an innocent victim, and an injustice if I follow out my duty," she contested. She closed her ocean-filled blue eyes and thought back to what she had done only eight years ago, but to his mother. A tear rolled down her smooth and delicate face.

"When he was only fourteen...poor child...his mother...no, I shall not squander more time pondering about this," she caused the unwanted thought to dissolve away into nothingness. "I don't want to take him away from the world if it is not his time to leave...but what must be done, must be done."

She held her breath and took her soft hand and ran it through his hair. Paulie did not move or stir, but his body relaxed. His dream suddenly clouded and started to vanish. She commenced her breathing again.

"He has slipped into a deeper state of unconsciousness...what an inequitable deed that shall be committed by my hands," she said aloud to herself. Her voice was seemed to softly echo with the wind. "I shall be punished if I do not do as I am told, but I refuse to do this! Oh, why am I cursed to be the one to steal away people's souls?" She cried aloud, revealing her pain. At her words, the wind picked up and the snow fell harder. But she thought...

"I shall let this innocent chosen one 'cheat'...I do not care about the ineludible, sordid consequences!" She said to herself. "Well, I hope this plan is successful, I have never done it before."

She knelt closer to the peaceful Beatle and calmly gazed at him, noticing every little thing about him. His eyes were closed, his breathing became shallow, his heart beat slowed, the snow that built up in his hair now became a coarse frost. His once rosy cheeks were beginning to fade; he became more pale.

She stroked her hand gently across his face. His face was no longer warm, it was cold. He slept there listless, his head still resting on his arms. She prayed that what she was doing was not going to be a mistake, or that she herself didn't make a mistake.

She leaned over closer to Paul and delicately brushed his hair away from his face.

She slowly and gently kissed him on his now icy cold cheek. Immediately, Paul fell into a cadaverous state.

She feared that her plan didn't work. She fell back a bit after seeing Paul's reaction.

That wasn't supposed to happen to him, he wasn't supposed to slip even further into unconsciousness...

Then she thought to herself...

"Now I've done it. Something inside told me it was impossible...now he will never open his eyes again, never see another sunrise, never see another smile. No longer will he be greeted by the warm embrace of family and friends, no longer hear the sweet, melodic winds of music, no longer enjoy life for its little and great pleasures; all that is cut short..."

She started to ascend back to the sky and where she came from. The wind angrily blew harder, and the snow retorted by coming down faster.

"Forever you are condemned to lie in that land of dreams, reveries, and alternate reality, to lie forever in that inescapable state of eternal sleep...even I cannot help you surpass my art...Foreign powers did not allow you to cheat me, innocent one...it is a total injustice; foreign powers have not allowed you to cheat

Death!"

And with that, Death disappeared into the blackness of the sky.