Winter Solstice Rhyme and Riddle

Believing that she was on her way to Geraldine's, the Summer warmth on Sheila's sixteen-year-old shoulder felt safe as she walked the half-block from house to house. Instead, Death pulled up in a very nice car. HandsomeBoy peered out her way, and spoke. Before she knew it, it was Winter. 

THE SETUP

HandsomeBoy was duly approved by this teen Sheila's elders, though they had never met him before. Sheila must have embellished how lovely of a boy he was. Sheila did this despite her being a mostly shy girl. Sheila's insecurities were showing, and her fear that no boy who was as ever so handsome as HandsomeBoy would ever ask her out again. Sheila KNEW that she must act swiftly or forever be denied all future social pleasures. Much like a Devil-made-me-do-it concept, Sheila got caught up in her own hormones. It seems that because HB promised Sheila some handsome fun, Sheila made a damn good case to said elders to get the coveted approval to join HB on a first date… but, Sheila lied! She said HandsomeBoy was Pretty Girlfriend. She may have mentioned the name Geraldine, but memories of so long ago have their inaccuracies and convenient distortions. In any case, my pretties, BEWARE! 

THE DATE

Snow, snow everywhere. HandsomeBoy said, "Let's go here!" Where, said she? My father's home, of course… he is a mortician and we are very near. It will only take a minute. An icy chill ran down Sheila's neck and she failed to hear exactly why HB wanted to make a detour from their plans. Something didn't pass the smell test of truth. Sheila knew they had driven quite far from home but she was paying close attention to HB's clever wit and couldn't identify exactly where they were.

Snow, snow out the window, warm inside and dry. And safe? Is dying in a blizzard better than being captured by the Ghosted Dead? Feeling quite unsure of what to do, HB sensed Sheila's hesitation and repeated, quite innocently, that it would only take a minute. Did she wish to wait in the cold car? 

THE FUNERAL PARLOR

Inside the coffin showroom, the two of them talked 'til two. Sheila never met HB's father that night. Was he dead? 

HB never offered any food nor drink. Sheila never left the showroom. When HB exited the door to get a blanket for her to sleep on, and supposedly speak with his mortician father, Sheila had time to observe the coffins surrounding her… out the corner of her eye, as direct confrontation could have had some truly uncomfortable consequences. There were polished smooth cream-colored wood ones that might appeal to a flashy business professional proud of his accomplishments and wanting to keep his good reputation intact even though he wasn't there to witness the awe and appreciation. Some were lined with royal looking magenta fabric that matched the thick drapes hiding falling snow outside the showroom windows. Sheila didn't see any plain boxes though, as this was the better part of town.

Gone for what seemed an eternity, Sheila pondered whether there was really a real father to be had on premises, and that HandsomeBoy may have actually been the actual mortician. That couldn't be true, Sheila's wiser half told her, because HB was only twenty-four. Or so he said.

THE FLOOR

Sheila's eyes were getting heavy now, as it was 4:15 a.m. and HB hadn't yet returned. Sheila mused to herself that HB must have fallen asleep somewhere. Sheila reluctantly succumbed to sleep herself on the hard-carpeted flooring, spied upon by "supposedly" brand new never used empty coffins (she dared not look inside one), and without a damn blanket.

HandsomeBoy then made his move. Continuously, upon rejection after rejection, HB sneaked back in during the course of what was left of the night, like a  Jack-in-the-Box jerk, to lie down next to her. Sheila admittedly would have preferred a blanket.

THE SOLUTION TO A WEIRD DILEMMA

Soon realizing that if she wanted to gain an ounce of sleep, something drastic had to be done. While HB had temporarily left the showroom, Sheila barricaded the door from the inside with a chair. She slept, rather peacefully, feeling confident that there was only a one door entrance into her now secure sanctuary. 

In the a.m. when snowflakes had stopped descending, for the most part, they exited the parlor and re-entered the car. The winter air was crisp, the sun glistened everywhere, and silence covered the world as last night's snow had beautifully blanketed the earth and treetops. The silence inside the car, however, was thick with glares and stares. HandsomeBoy drove Sheila back to her house and sped off in his nice looking car, leaving treadmarks in the slush. Needless to say, that was their first, and last date. Like Alpha and Omega. But not.

REFLECTIONS

Although Sheila had telephoned her loved ones while shivering in the showroom to ask them for guidance, permission was granted for her to stay put. Was her shivering from the snow, or the premonition that Sheila desperately tried to ignore? Being good guardians, their order was given as a best based scenario for Sheila's personal safety. Under the circumstances, Sheila could not argue with them nor beg to be saved from the self-induced potential danger they knew nothing about. Good guardians were measuring road conditions. Sheila was silently praying to be saved. God must have heard her prayers.

When Sheila arrived home in one piece that morning, the night was never questioned. She often wondered why they would let a sixteen-year-old innocent, naive, not-a-party-girl child trapse off with a virtual stranger without question. But, looking back, Sheila remembered that she must have told them a really big, huge, whopper of a convincing Geraldine lie.

Sheila learned an odd and fruitless lesson.

Trust, trust, yes you must,

Or dirt 'n dust describes you.

The next time Sheila faced Death was as a thirty-something when enrolled in a Summer anatomy class at medical school. Since Sheila had taken up life drawing to improve her people skills (creatively speaking), she thought that cutting up a dead body like the Renaissance artists had done would improve her painting style. Alas, no. Quickly recognizing the similarities in her two death encounters as being what her grandmother used to accuse her of - "eyes bigger than your stomach" - Sheila has since stuck to writing for receiving answers to her very odd curiosity. In this way she has avoided most potential winters.