Winter Wonders

There’s a certain way the world sounds after it snows. It’s like the slight buzzing you hear in a quiet room, but with an echo. Wind shifts the trees causing crystallized water to coat the ground below, a slight rattle with every gust. Maybe off in the distance you hear the faint sound of a shovel against a drive-way; it could be miles away and yet it sounds like it’s your next door neighbor. After it snows, I always feel like I’ve been transported into an alternate reality. My eyes have trouble focusing against the white haze while my boots produce a loud crunching noise that can’t possibly come from something so soft looking. 

I’ve been walking in the forest for hours now, taking in the transformation that occurs after the first real snow. Squirrels are scurrying in the branches above, knocking puffs of snow onto my already damp head. I’m not sure how I got here or where exactly I am, but I am entranced by the beauty. My boots carry me on, in search of something I don’t know. From time to time, I have to duck under branches weighed down by the snow. It amazes me how something as fragile as snow can bring down something as strong as a tree limb. As I go, I see a few animal footprints dashing off into other directions. I recognize the hops of a rabbit and the pecks of a bird next to a bush full of berries. The red stands out against the pristine blanket of white that has covered the bush, drawing me closer. Looking through the gaps of leaves and snow, I see something has made its home within. Twigs and sticks with a few stray pieces of fabric are mashed together to create a nest at the center. Before turning to leave, I congratulate the critter on a fantastic spot and wish good luck in the many more cold days to come. That’s when I notice something is not right. 

Behind me there are only footprints left from animals who have long since gone. The triangle pattern from the bottom of my boot is nowhere to be found; the path left smooth and untouched. I glance down at my feet. They are pressed into the snow, I can feel the cold around my toes. Yet, when I lift them up, there is nothing left underneath. I take a few steps. Then a few more. Nothing. It’s almost as if I was never there. A blank slate left where I have walked. I take off into a sprint, the deep snow causing me to fall forward. When I push myself off from the ground, there is no proof that I fell except for my now soaked gloves. I feel hot underneath all my layers, a cold sweat breaking out at the rim of my hat. 

“What the hell?” I cannot see my breath despite the below freezing temperature. Panic starts to swirl inside me as I spin in circles trying to figure out my way back. Back where? Where did I come from? I continue to run, falling and refusing to look down again. The clumps of trees and wilderness start to thin and I know I am close to some kind of opening. I don’t notice the low hanging branches anymore, opting to run right through them. Ice molecules pump through my lungs as I push myself faster and faster until finally I make it to a clearance. 

The snow on the road before me has been disturbed. A gray slush is piled around the sides and dragged through the center; you can barely see the dividing, yellow line. It seems impossible to think the ugly mush before me is the same substance as the beauty I saw in the forest. Immediately, I search for some kind of help. A passing car, a jogger, anyone who can explain my lack of footprints. All I get in return is the humming of ice shaking off the trees that surround me. My ears start to ring with the silence. Looking down, I take one step forward. No footprint. Not even the sound of snow crunching beneath my worn-out boots. I am going insane. Threads from a rip in my jeans dance with the breeze and my attention is brought to the ambulance wailing past. Soon, a police car and a firetruck follow and I run after them. I slip on the slush dispersed throughout the road, hitting patches of ice I didn’t see before. I can only imagine what it’s like to be driving in this mess. 

“Hello!” I shout at the EMTs gathered around an accident. “Can somebody help me? I think I’m having a psychotic episode!” They don’t look at me, too focused on getting the driver out of the car. The green Toyota has practically climbed up the tree with branches and snow burying the roof of the car, knocked loose from the impact. Sounds of voices over a radios emerge from the emergency vehicles and litter the silence. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the smashed car looks similar to the one I drive. The way the hood has been crushed into the steering wheel like a soda can causes some trouble in opening the driver’s door. Finally a body is pulled out. 

“Excuse me officer,” I say as I get closer. I’m well aware that their situation is more pressing, but I am really starting to freak out. He doesn’t flinch. I try again, “Excuse me! Hello?” Nothing. I tap him on the shoulder. It’s like I’m not even here. With increasing panic I go to the next officer. Again, no response. More squawks over the radio, the driver is pronounced dead. I am practically dancing in front of everyone trying to get them to notice me, as if I’m a ghost. I can feel myself giving up, my body slumping forward in defeat. Maybe it’s all some hyper-realistic dream caused by indigestion. I drag my feet through the inches of snow and kick a purple hat that must’ve been thrown out of the car. There are still no footprints as I walk towards the body. Footprints from the first responders have beaten down the snow surrounding the scene. I can follow the tire tracks from the edge of the road to where it rests now. The tree seems unphased by the machine pushed into its trunk, the same cannot be said for the victim. Shards of glass glitter across her torn jeans and puffy winter coat. Again, I am amazed by the destruction nature can cause. Her dark, brown hair is mangled with snow, dirt, and blood. The cuts across her face make her almost unrecognizable, just another Jane Doe. But I know her. It’s me.