Snow began to fall across the Apennines Mountain in January and lasted for days. From his home in the suburbs, Matrone watched the weather with concern. He and his wife, Cicioni, had planned an overnight getaway to the hotel halfway up the mountain. But now he wondered whether they should go. After phoning the hotel, they decided to make the trip. When they finally arrived six hours later, they were both cold and exhausted. They checked into their room and went to bed early.

As they awoke the next day, they discovered that their difficulty had worsened overnight. The cars in the parking lot were invisible. The phone and power lines were down. Many people were digging their cars.

With a dozen vehicles freed by noon, the guests set off down the driveway. But when they reached the main road, the path was blocked by a six-foot-high wall of snow. Matrone climbed out of his car and there was no road in sight. “We're trapped! he told his wife. So they had no choice but to make their way back to the hotel.

As it was getting dark, they managed to be back. That was when the snow on the mountain began to slide. They heard the avalanche（雪崩）before they saw it. The avalanche gathered speed and size, grabbing anything in its way down the mountain and tearing the hotel from its foundation. When the avalanche came to a stop, those caught inside the hotel were left buried in the icy rocks and ruins.

When Matrone came to himself, he was stuck in the darkness. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was not until the next morning that the rescuers finally arrived.___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It happened when Tom was only ten years old. That day he was at home with his elder sister Jane. Tom was doing his homework when he heard raised voices. At first he didn't think seriously about it, since it was always noisy downstairs, but he soon realized this time it was different.

“Quick! Quick! Remove the motorcycles from the shop,” someone yelled.

Then a thick burning smell filled the air. When Tom opened the front door of their flat to investigate, a thick cloud of smoke greeted him. The motorcycle shop had caught fire and people were running and crying.

Jane, who had been playing the violin in her room, hurried to the living room. They rushed out of the door and along the corridor（走廊）through the smoke.

They were heading towards the stairway at the far end of the corridor when Jane suddenly stopped. She turned around and headed back the way they came. Tom had no idea what she was doing, but he followed her.

Jane had suddenly remembered the lady in her 70s who lived next door to them, who they called Makcik. Jane began banging on Makcik's door, but got no answer. As the smoke thickened around them, Tom could see many of their neighbours—some still in their pyjamas—running for safety. The thought of fear crossed his mind.

"She would have run for safety like everyone else!" Tom cried. However, Jane refused to give up. "I know Makcik's still inside.” She said she was familiar with Makcik's daily routine and was certain she would still be sleeping. She pounded against the door. "Go downstairs. Go now! Go!”

Tom noticed the flame was reaching up.

Luckily, some neighbours passing by stopped and offered help.

It’s the Saturday, 1:00 am, and Stormy, my dog, and I were going on a pre-dawn bird-watching adventure. The weatherman predicted fog, but as we hit the road, it’s clear. Along our journey, I stopped at a petrol station, ensuring Stormy was safely locked in the truck.

“Stormy, hang tight,” I whispered, stepping out into the night air.

Back on the highway, as we were near the marshlands, a heavy fog began to swallow everything. At a sharp bend, my truck hit soft ground, and I lost control. “Oh, no!” Panic set in as the vehicle slid off the road with a bang, falling down a steep bank and into the water.

In the strange silence that followed, I was floating inside the car, gently carried downstream by the canal. “Come on, door,” I said, switching uselessly at the handle. It won’t move; the electrical system had shorted out due to the water. “I’ve got a glass breaker,” I reminded myself, reaching for the tool in the center part.

With each failed attempt to break the window — the glass bouncing back at me — I felt a growing sense of urgency. Water moved over the floorboards, cooling my feet. “Stormy, stay calm,” I said, lying down to kick at the window with all my strength. But my efforts only met resistance.

As the water level rose threateningly close to the ceiling, fear clawed at my heart. In a last effort, I dived behind the seat for my toolbox. “Got to find something solid.” My hands brushed against the cold metal toolbox, then the fire extinguisher (灭火器). “This might work.”

“Here goes everything,” I thought, holding the extinguisher and hitting it against the window. The impact resounded through the car, but the glass holds firm. “Not yet,” I begged under my breath, as the extinguisher bounced harmlessly away.

The water kept rising, and so did my fear. A voice inside me screamed to give up, but another thought pierced through — Stormy. “For Stormy, I can’t quit.” Just then, I sensed a pause in the water’s rise.

An unspoken sound said, “You have more time. What will you do?”

“I’ll fight harder,” I promised aloud.

Exhausted, we caught the now flooded vehicle, waiting for daylight.