Snowflakes

short story

Heavy blackness is not eternal in my room. I lie on my back, sinking slightly into the firm, flannel sheet-covered mattress. If it were day, with the glow of the sun reflecting off of the snow streaming in my window, you would see the polar bears and penguins sledding right and left, upside down and diagonally across my sheets. I don’t like how they sled all willy-nilly without crashing into each other. You would see them, but the only illumination is the red glow of 11:53 on my end table.

The hollow bellows of snow-smothered winds squeeze against our suburban house, forcing foundation to groan and floors to tighten under the pressure. A shiver catches my shoulders and rapidly encases my entire body. I pause for a moment; jaws clenched, muscles tense, and then whip the multiple covers off. I leap out of bed and gasp as my bare feet touch the cold wooden floor. The frigid air wraps around me, sticking like wet snow to my skin, my still-damp hair, my faint citrus-scented track t-shirt, and red flannel boxers. I barely hold my arms out like antenna, warning me of any obstacles I might run into as I drag my goose-bumped body into the hallway. I grab a blanket out of the closet, my eyes are adjusted now, and hurry back to my still-warm bed. I climb in with the obnoxious sledders and with some difficulty, swing the beige blanket on top.

The glare of my alarm clock shines against my dark-cherry bedposts, casting long shadows barely recognizable against the tall dark walls, undecorated except for a cross-stitch of a lightpost along a rocky shore. I stare at the shadows without blinking�"a game of mine because if you stare long enough, they come to life and vibrate on my wall like undulating seaweed. Tonight I stare and stare but they remain still and eminent�"stark and black, a reminder of the four posts that surround me.
I flop over on my back, snuggle tighter within my blankets, and look up at my crinkle-plastered ceiling. My eyes trace the spidery veins as my body relaxes and warms. The lines go nowhere, just run along and meet other lines which run into more lines. My eyes become unfocused and the lines blend together creating a mess of broken shards ready to shower down and bury me in plaster.
My lungs tighten and I bite my thin lips as a cold rush grasps me by the spine. Suddenly I have an intense urge to open my clamped mouth and scream�"to release my soul into the icy night.

But I can’t. Someone would hear me. Whether it’s my parents who sleep a few doors, down or my older brother across the hall, or the neighbors, or the neighbors’ neighbor, or the old woman at the end of the street who refuses to wear her dentures, or the college kid working the night shift at McDonalds. It doesn’t matter who. Someone would hear me.

My heart palpitates and the red-tinted darkness presses down�"crushing me in the never-ending spiral of lines and shadows, lined shadows and shadowy lines�"they smother me. My breath becomes shallow and I turn over on my side, curl up, and wrap my arms around myself, trying to contain the scream I yearn to release.  It needs to penetrate a hole in the compressing darkness.

If I make myself small enough, perhaps I can fit in the small space where the red light shines. I squeeze my arms tighter to force the scream down. It wants out, it wants to pierce the night, poke a hole in the sky and bury a star. But I must remain silent. Or they will hear and the darkness will engulf me. My heart squeezes in my chest and my eyes shut tight like my teeth. My organs condense and compress against each other in my shrinking body cavity.

I release my thoughts as I imagine standing on the isolated tip of an ice-covered mountain�"screaming till my lungs burn and my soul condenses and falls to earth as snowflakes. They lightly shower down and cover slanted roof-tops, burying the shingles in silent screams amid the fractured night sky. They press against the ground, trying to reach the molten center to quench it.

I crack one eye open to check on the bedpost shadows�"they still refuse to dance. I open the other eye and want to see what time it is, but can’t turn over. I am frozen silent in place. Surrounded, I am surrounded by people and houses, fences and cars. I am surrounded by blankets and sledding bears and this tight skin. There is nowhere safe to let my soul go. They will hear it and catch it. They will lock it away and then I’d be mute completely.

My mouth quivers as I open it slightly and release a small, hesitant sigh. I watch the light fog dance out of my mouth. It is too warm for snow.

 

Author's Note

This is my first piece of fiction I've put on WC. It's a very short story. I had to write a scary story for an early college course, and this is what happened. It def needs work. I'm reminising, re-visiting old portfolios and the masses of loose-leaf writings.