Snow Falls Memories Fade

This was written, no editing, 28:15

The softening colors from the darkening sky shone bluntly though the frost covered window of Bennett's upstairs bedroom like they had done countless times before. The creaking of the roof weighed down by the burden of winter's wrath reverberated throughout the wooden cottage as if warning anything inside to be prepared.

Out front Bennett was preparing for the long drive back into town. The crunching of the unblemished snowfall covering the ground was deafening in comparison to the soft hum of the wind briskly bullying its way around the evergreen trees. He would have preferred to remain in the isolated hedonism of the small dwelling, but food supplies were running scarce and the risk of another major storm blowing through would have left him trapped for who knows how long.

“Whatever you do, never underestimate the power of nature,” his mother used to tell him when he was young. “If you respect it, it will respect you.” He never really understood that last part, but for some reason, as a small boy who looked up to and idolized his mother, those words – any words – were both soothing and reassuring.

He climbed behind the wheel of his Ford pick-up, blew a couple of heated breaths into his chilled yet sweaty hands and fished the keys out of his pocket. It had been over two weeks since he last fired her up, a mistake he always seems to make whenever he comes up here, yet has never paid the price for.

“Chug, chug..... “

He tried once more.

“Chug, chug...”

Nothing.

He put both hands on the top of the steering wheel, straightened his arms and leaned back against the worn-out seat. “There's no way I'll get a tow up here with a storm on the way,” he whispered to himself but really to no one in particular. He then proceeded to roll down his window and divert his attention towards the few flakes of snow falling auspiciously onto the white sheet surrounding the truck. Pulling the wool hat down over his ears he tried one more time.

“Chug, chug.... vrooooom.”

Exhaling a breath of relief, Bennett gently pushed down on the gas pedal and revved up the engine, mimicking the sound of a wild beast roaring triumphantly in the face of fear. He waited a a minute before taking the car out of park and commenced the long drive into what would barely be considered a town. The comfort of the light beaming proudly over the front porch began to dwindle as he drove further and further away from the clandestine property.

“Haven't seen you out here in a while,” Jim, mildly distracted from the local newsletter currently occupying his attention. “Stocking up for the storm?”

The hollow thud of each step by both men against the rickety wood planks lining the floor a constant reminder of the fragility of older buildings that somehow stood the test of time and the harshest of elements. Bennett always preferred to be reserved and detested small talk.

Returning his attention to the paper, Jim removed his glasses and continued on without waiting for a response. “Yessir. Looks like it could be a brutal one. No sense in going back wherever you're from. Gonna have to ride it out and hope the good lord watches out.”

Bennett browsed the shelves scarce with soup cans and various instant meal accompaniments. “What if I don't believe in the good lord?” He muttered loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be misunderstood. He filled up whatever he could into the small plastic basket and continued on. Jim's face remained focused on the paper down on the counter, but his eyes glanced up directly at Bennett.

“Then you better hope the good lord believes in you.”

The cold felt colder as the darkness overtook the truck, the glow emanating from the quaint market lacking in the same comforting warmth as that from the house. The more the light faded, the more Bennett felt at ease with his surroundings, which had, at this point, worsened in terms of weather conditions. The light snow continued to meander downwards in a grace-like manner, lightly permeating the ground as if puzzle pieces falling into place.

The windshield wipers failed admirably in keeping the front window clean of any hindering snow that was now beginning to build up all around. The unknown void caused by the enclosing darkness adhered to the blinding snow made driving conditions risky at best. Bennett knew these roads inside and out, so his only worry had to do with any others on the road not so familiar. With the window rolled down, small flakes invaded the beat-up auto and landed gently on Bennett's fleece vest. The roar of the truck warning any animals in the vicinity to steer clear of the unforgiving beast.

Some ways down the road, in what felt like a never-ending tunnel of white darkness a small glimmer of light poked through the trees. Immediately the transient paranoia relented and transformed into hope. He pulled into the same spot where he had left it, the entire surface showed no evidence of his ever being there, let alone a mere hour ago. He parked, pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back, glancing out his still open window, the left side of his vest camouflaged in white. Much of the snow never made it beyond the higher branches of the trees encasing everything leaving the impression of a tent, where only a smattering of glitter managed to sneak through.

After a good ten minutes or so, the chill snapped Bennett out of his snow-drifted reverie. Grabbing his supplies and rolling up the window, he looked around.

“Good lord or no good lord...” he smiled, “this is fucking awesome.”