Snow Drifters

The snow beneath my boots crunched loudly as I plodded down the road toward the grocery store. Against the winter stillness, the crunch reverberated as a sound of anger to anyone that could have heard it, but the street was empty of other angry souls. My steps were precise and calibrated stomps of fury meant to release the frustration I felt because the car had failed to start. My ire could be traced to the series of events that began when I woke up. It was Monday, a day noted for bad vibes, and the alarm slept, the coffee pot broke, there was no milk for cereal, and the ground was covered in a snowy twelve-inch surprise of fluffy hell. My foul mood was better spent on random snow drifts than the poor store clerk I would encounter once reaching my destination. I tromped on, muttering under my breath and digging my heels into the snow.

I became lost in my own thoughts, as I walked along, cursing my Monday. I figured my day at the office would turn into a work from home opportunity. Plans for replacing the battery in my car filled my head knowing I would need a jump start before I could get it a garage. A neighbor would have to be pulled into service. As I debated my prospects their faces came into view. There was a little old man, with only one gold tooth in his head and who stared a little too long at my derriere during our past encounters, that lived next door. I dismissed him as an option because the thought of spending time with him creeped me out. The little lady on the opposite side talked incessantly and seemed to know very little about anything. Across the street lived a family with kids, and the parents seemed normal enough, so I would settle on asking them for help. I struggled to remember their names thinking it would be better to act as if I knew them before putting them to work.

As for my immediate needs, I was in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee. My mood mellowed slightly as I pictured myself by the fireplace at home sipping the warm brew later. I lightened my steps and started to take notice of the surroundings. Snow covered the street, like a shiny new blanket, with the familiar markings buried below. Having lived in the neighborhood for five years, it would be easy to navigate my way, but there was a quiet strangeness of the street I couldn't ignore. I found it odd that I was alone. During a normal snowfall, there would be parents scraping cars and kids tossing snowballs. It caused a shiver to run down my spine delivering an eerie sensation. I tossed the feeling aside and hastened my steps.

When I finally reached the store it was dark inside with a hand-scribbled sign hanging on the door. It read, "Closed for snow! Beware!" Part of me wanted to cry because of the added insult to my day. I stared long and hard at the sign in disbelief because the little neighborhood store had never closed to my knowledge. I pushed lightly on the door and it squeaked open. The owners had failed to lock the door.

"Hello?" I called to anyone who might be present. I repeated the call loudly several times as I stepped inside. Making as much noise as I could, I hoped not to be shot as an intruder. Without moving from my spot in the doorway, I twisted my body in every direction and peered down the aisles catching sight of no one. A selfish yearning filled my heart as I glimpsed the refrigerator that held the carton of milk I had come for. It would be so simple to grab the milk and place money on the counter but I reluctantly chose to do the right thing. I dialed 911. I was worried about the fate of the owners. I counted the rings as twelve before an automated voice responded.

"There has been a severe snow storm. This is a warning for all citizens to beware!" was the message my phone relayed. Even the click that ended the call seemed harsh and spooky. The scary nature of call left me wanting to run through the streets screaming.

I steadied myself and gripped my phone tightly in nervousness. Propped against the door was a snow shovel that I hadn't noticed before. It became my weapon of choice for any beings that might be lurking. I swung it high on my shoulder. Reaching for a light switch, I flipped it on in a dramatic fashion, hoping to startle the boogeyman I had now conjured in my mind. I followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee as I crept through the aisles. Coffee, regular and decaf, greeted me at the end of the third aisle. The sign on the pot said," Serve yourself, please. But beware of the snow people!" The store was as empty as the street I had traveled. I chose to grab a small coffee pot from the shelf that promised a heck of a sale and a half gallon of milk from the icebox. I swiveled the shovel in front of me as I moved cautiously back towards the door. I threw a wad of cash from my pocket in the general direction of the counter. I exited the store as quickly as I could, closing the door behind me.

In my panic, I gripped my items closely and ran through the snow heading towards my home. My heart sank, as I noticed that my footsteps made in the snow from the trip to the store had vanished. The streets remained as empty as the store I had just left. The quiet was deafening. I ran as fast as the snow allowed, slipping and sliding in the slush. My heart pounded and my breathing was labored from the workout, but I was determined to reach my house.

When I turned the corner to my street, I slowed my speed with a small feeling of relief gracing me. The feeling was short-lived, as I noted the changes made since my earlier departure. Each yard was newly decorated with snowmen and women. The snow people seemed to represent the people that I knew inhabited the homes I passed. There were males, females, teenagers, and little kids. The snow creatures were donned in business suits, dresses, jeans, and snowsuits. They were animated in their frozen poses of activity. Some of the busy snow people shoveled driveways, some scraped the windows of the make-believe snow car, and one woman was at work dressing her toddler in snow gear as he tried to escape her grasp. The scene that started my screaming and uncontrollable fit of tears were of three kids having a snowball fight. The snowballs that they hefted were suspended in midair, frozen in a place I had no desire to visit.

I tossed the newly purchased coffee pot and the milk onto the ground. The snow shovel became my new best friend and I hugged it tightly against my chest running wildly for the rest of the way to my house. I kept telling myself that it was all a dream, as the tears rolled down my cheeks freezing in their path. I knew for certain, I was wide awake when I reached the edge of the yard. It was the only yard not adorned with snow people. One glance at my next door neighbor's yard yielded the vision of a small snowman with one shiny gold tooth glinting in the sun. I melted to my knees in the snow overcome with grief for a man I barely knew. I pounded the shovel hard against the street, daring the snow people to attack.

No one moved as I backed my way safely into the house. I locked the door behind me. I tried again to call 911, unsure of what to say but knew that my only help would come from them. I was rewarded with the same recording I had heard earlier. "There has been a severe snow storm. This is a warning for all citizens to beware!" but more had been added to the cryptic message.

"Sorry that we missed your call but the snow people will visit you soon, Lorelei. We are experiencing a city-wide snowball fright. Please stay tuned and we will be with you shortly."

I threw my phone across the room in desperation. I raced toward the fireplace and lit it. I hoped to melt any creature that came for me.

So I sit waiting by my fire, writing in my journal. I want to leave a record for anyone that has survived the snow people. They are sure to come for me but the timing is theirs to decide. My shovel, my fire, and I wait in the quiet of my home.

P.S. I will be the snow lady wearing the red boots and the really cute red bubble coat. My name is Lorelei.

Word Count 1518