Between Layers of Snow and Ash

The blizzard--nature’s most beautiful form of destruction. It tears through an area like a graceful dancer filled with rage tears across a stage, its movement sharp and unpredictable, yet still oh-so mesmerizing. Everyone watches from a distance, sensing the danger, yet they can never turn away- like flies to a flytrap. 

This is why Kylie Boyer finds herself gazing out of her cabin window, hypnotized. The book she had been enjoying rests open in her lap with her hands folded over the spine. The orange glow from the fireplace in front of her covers her and the room around her in a soft flickering light while the quivering flames provide her with comforting warmth. 

Yet despite the blazing flame’s heat, she feels a chill run down her spine as she watches the violent flakes beat against her window. This show of uneasiness is highly unusual for her, especially in this weather. While most might hold a certain amount of healthy fear towards a storm of this magnitude, Kylie never finds herself concerned in the slightest. Once the ‘Whiteout Season’ comes round each year, she becomes more joyous and a little less on edge. She feels content with the knowledge that the winter storms drive any dreaded campers back to their homes, bringing peace to her backwoods territory; and as she settles herself upon her chair, book in hand and a cup of tea nearby, a single thought floats through her mind, 

  “What could be better than this?”

On this night, though, something seems off. An unwelcome feeling begins to spread through her-that sort of instinctual fear that one feels before they even know why they feel it. Her skinny fingers tap impatiently against the arm of her seat, and a frown mars what had minutes ago been a soft expression. Her blue-grey eyes scan the white wall outside as if searching for the source of her restlessness. What about this storm has her so on edge?

With a mildly agitated sigh, she drops her gaze and shakes her head before tilting it back towards the ceiling. In an attempt to calm herself, she takes time to follow the dancing shadows, every fold and dip luring her further and further into a tranquil state. Slowly, she feels her eyelids begin to droop, and the ball of jitters in her stomach fizzles out, dissolving into something much heavier and still. Before long, she’s drifting off to sleep, the whistle of the wind lulling her into a serene blackness.

-----*****-----

Several Hours Later

Kylie awakes with a start as the clock on her wall chimes three times, signaling the early morning. The room is dark, the scent of burnt pine being the only remnant of the fire, which had burned itself out. The sun would be providing no light either, for as she begins to regain her senses, she can still make out the sounds of the blizzard, which doesn’t seem to have let up at all during the night. She’s certain that she’ll find herself snowed in later once daylight comes round.

  “I pity anyone who ignored the station’s warnings.” She quietly chuckles to herself, “Because nobody is going anywhere anytime soon.”

Having lived in this area for quite some time, Kylie knows very well that when the radio calls for a blizzard, it’s bound to happen. In all of her 23 years in this place, there’d never once been a false alarm. So of course, when word of this monster came ‘round, she had been quick to stock up. 

Knowing that her actions are once again justified, she gives a slight smile, and a long cat-like stretch, resolving to just head upstairs and get some more sleep. Reaching beside her to the small wooden end table, she feels around until she finds what she’s looking for. With the flick of a switch, her little plastic lantern sparks to life. It’s a convenient, battery-powered thing that proves useful in times when the power surges; as it had hours into the start of the storm. The soft glow from its fake flame is, luckily, not too harsh on her sleepy eyes, and after taking a moment to allow her vision to adjust, she begins her small trek. 

She never even makes it halfway up the stairs, however, before stopping dead in her tracks. Over the angry howling of the wind, and the natural creaking of the house, she hears a sound. A sound that is faint, but unmistakable. A sound that has always held a spot in the darkest part of her heart, and a sound that she never expected to hear at a time like this. 

Thump, thump, thump

Someone is knocking at her door. 

The panic strikes like a snake and she whips around to stare wide-eyed at the entrance to the cabin. Time seems to stop as she waits, hoping that may have just been a branch or a ball of snow being blown against it. The knowledge that the cabin is empty of any other people puts a weight on her shoulders, reminding her that, if there is indeed a person on the other side of that door, she’ll have to deal with them on her own.

Just the idea sends goosebumps across her skin.  

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump

The knock comes again, causing Kylie to flinch as she’s snapped out of her thoughts. Gripping the handle of the lantern tightly, she begins to inch her way to the door. Some small, reasonable part of her realizes that this is most likely just a lost traveler, looking for shelter from the frigid weather. Of course, the idea doesn’t help her breath much easier, but it drives her to answer. After all, she may hate any form of human interaction, but that doesn’t mean she’ll leave a person out to die. 

She shakily grabs the handle, and with a swift jerk, flings the door open, the freezing blackness immediately overtaking everything within its reach. After flinging her lantern in front of her, as if it were some sort of defense, her brows furrow. 

  “There’s no one here….” 

Before she moves to step back, though, she hears a quiet hiccup, followed by the sound of sobbing. Glancing downwards, she catches a bit of movement from a bundle of sea green fuzz huddled beside her entryway, and she lets out a small gasp as she realizes what it is. 

  “Oh my lord....” She breathes. 

The crying ball is a child. A little girl by the look and sound of it, who sits shivering against the wall of the house. Patches of frost spot her Little Mermaid pajamas and her white-blonde hair is frozen stiff. Judging by the size of her fragile, shaking frame, she doesn’t look to be more than 6 or 7 years old.

Upon seeing the poor girl, some part of Kylie she thought was long gone comes to rise once more. Her maternal instincts kick in, and within seconds she’s kneeling by the child’s side, wrapping her arms around her. 

  “Oh my lord, child….what are you doing out here? And alone too….” She glances around once more to be sure, nodding to herself, before shifting her grip. Very gently, so as not to hurt or frighten the girl more than she already is, Kylie picks her up and carries her inside. 

Taking one final glimpse into the deep grey haze, she delivers a strong kick to the door, shutting off the wind, and leaving the cabin still and silent once more.