A large grin pulled up the corners of my mouth, tugging my expression into a bright smile. I felt euphoric; I could have been flying, reaching out and touching the clouds. My feet slid smoothly over the soft snow, and I stretched my arms out like wings. Skiing was my favourite thing to do, and deep feelings of exhilaration and bliss travelled to my very bones.

My imagination was running wild, envisioning gliding over the spiky green pines at the bottom of the mountain. Then, I started swerving this way, and that way, imagining I was dodging bullets. I had always known I had an overactive imagination – my friends liked to tease me about it – but I loved the way I could turn any experience, no matter how boring, into an adventure.

A deep rumble sounded from behind me, interrupting my serenity. It sounded like a growling monster, low and hard, about to leap on its prey. The echo caused small vibrations to quiver under my skis. Confusion flooded my emotions, knocking out the tranquillity completely. It took me a few minutes to realise what was going on. It clicked like a switch inside my brain, and the confusion transformed into apprehension.

The advisors back at the lodge had warned me of a possible avalanche. My mood immediately darkened, a cold dread settling in my chest. Every part of me tensed, and my ears strained to hear another growl erupt from the mountain.

Grumble. Rumble. ROAR

There it was again; the mountain was roaring at me. It was angry and wanted revenge: I was going to be the unlucky victim swallowed in a sea of ice.

I whirled around and began skiing at full speed towards the bottom of the mountain. Grumble. The air no longer made me feel like I was flying - it was painful, and stung my eyes and cheeks. Rumble. The roaring mountain was following me, getting louder, and the trembling beneath me was becoming stronger.

Suddenly, I felt an impact on my right ski, and I fell towards the snow. I tucked myself into a ball as I rolled and tumbled until the density of the snow held me still. I knew I must have hit a pebble buried in the snow – it wouldn’t be the first time – and cursed myself. I was so distracted by the growling that I completely forgot to check my footing. This was the worst timing for me to fall; the avalanche was chasing me, and I was about to get tagged.

I looked around desperately, with no hope left. My earlier euphoria had completely dissolved into nothing but hatred and fear, boiling in my stomach. This would be it; I was going to die.

Out the corner of my eye I saw a dark hollow on the side of the mountain; the snow stung my hands and knees like frostbite as I crawled frantically towards it. Rumble, Grumble, ROAR. It was so close, yet so far, and the avalanche was right on my tail. The first flecks of snow tumbled over my boots, so I reached towards the mountain and grabbed at two crevasses. I lunged forward and used my last remaining muscle to pull myself into the crater.

When I was tucked safely at the back of the hollow, I turned around just inside to see a wall of white rush past me. I sighed with relief, and tried to release all feelings of fear. I imagined sitting at a campfire, and laughing about how close I had come to death. Hopefully one day this would just be a wistful memory.