A Light Snow
Here is a short story I wrote back in 2014. I hope you enjoy it!
A light snow
A moonless night had come upon the village. A million stars shone brightly overhead. The Milky Way, like a road in the sky, leading eternal beings along the street of creation. The night was cold and clear. A freshly fallen layer of snow blanketed the streets, awnings, and roof tops.
The village was quiet. Only a soft breeze could be heard as it lightly twisted and twirled in the wake of the messenger of snow. The upmost layer of snow, dry and light, was gently moved from place to place by the breeze, forming as it were ribbons of dancing crystal. Around the bases of light poles, along the sides of the streets, or on the leeward side of narrow alleyways the driven snow piled in rest from its promenade.
It was one of those nights that was perfect and full of peace. One of those nights where the Earth gets to smile and say to itself, “All is well here.” No turmoil, no fear, no stress, no anxiety could be found. All was still, quiet, and calm.
The dark sky, gleaming with twinkly orbs, bestowed its light to a billion crystals below. The facets of snowflakes reflected the celestial glow to mirror the glistening heavenly scene.
Yet, there was something not quite right. In a place that draws nigh to heaven, should not merriment be visible, perhaps in homes around a warm hearth or in the embrace of social gatherings? But this was not so. Not a footprint could be found in the snow. Not a welcoming candle in a window. Only the breeze, snow, stars above, and village filled this place.
Upon examination, a passerby would find doors unlocked. Some doors hung open, wedged by drifting snow that trailed into the interior of home or shop. Shutters were open while others latched closed. Gazing into a toy store window, a visitor would notice shelves carefully stocked with the merchandise of childhood joy. Hanging signs over shops creaked as they were gently pushed by the breeze. A small mound of snow having made its home atop the sign.
Walking such a scene, an individual might get anxious and unsettled. Over their shoulder they would check to see if they were being watched by hidden inhabitants, perhaps by monsters, or worse by those who dwell in the world unseen. Quiet stillness, without an explanation, leaves people wondering what is wrong.
The only thing amiss within the confines of this village was that not a soul resided within its bounds. The silence and stillness need not cause awkwardness or concern. No one was there to secretly watch or stalk. Nevertheless, someone walking through such a place would eventually feel uneasy. The uneasiness perhaps comes from being around too much: too much noise, too many people, too many lights, sounds, actions, commotions, and bustle. When all that remains is silence our mind goes on alert. Our heart rate increases. We instinctively look over our shoulder.
If walking, some will walk the middle line between what parallels them. This gives them a sense of security that if anything unexpected should come from either side they will have warning. Others hug close to walls and shadows, trying to blend in and be unnoticed.
Some open doors quickly in an effort take what is unseen by surprise. Others open doors slowly as if delaying unseen danger lying in wait. Walking becomes secretive and stealthy to make not a sound. Such actions simply add to the eeriness of the moment.
In the case of the village, precautionary actions were unnecessary. For here there was no one to hurt or make afraid. Nevertheless, the mind latches on to imaginary possibilities. Possibilities inspired by silence, darkness, shadows, and the unknown. Yet the village is not in real silence for the breeze can be heard. With the breeze one can hear the rustling of tiny snow crystals, hinges swinging, and branches bending to its subtle force. These soft sounds are perceived to be more ferocious than a lion. Often, imagined possibilities lay beyond the physical or reasonable reality of our world. But once imagined, they are weeds with deep roots not easily removed or forgotten.
In the busyness of life many have forgotten the sounds of the earth. When we expect the sounds of civilization and only find the sounds of nature the hair stands up on the back of our necks. We have forgotten the peace of the earth and the wonders of nature. We no longer see the stars high in the heavens, which have been flooded by manmade light. We live in an age where people of the city may look up at night and say with wonder, "Look at the stars!", when only the fifty brightest ones can be seen. We no longer notice the fresh fallen snow, the light breeze that graces our cheeks. After all these are considered inconveniences in the cities. They are blocked by heaters, big coats, gloves, hats, shovels, and salt. They are not considered things to smile about, but things to get rid of.
A passerby in this silent village may look behind him and for the first time in a long time see his tracks in the snow, feel the breeze on his face, look up and see the stars and notice the calmness of creation around him. Not the creations of man, but the creations of God. They surround everything on the ground below and the heavens above. They light upon roads, sidewalks, awnings, and roofs, they hide the commotion of mankind and return the Earth to a form of its former Eden.
Even in the commotion of the city, with all the hustle and bustle, these creations may be seen. Often, they are harder to spot for mankind has become good at not recognizing them. They are the colorful plants that hang out a window. The cracks in cement testifying of the Earth below. The trees that reach high to find the sun amongst tall buildings. Granite steps that record geologic time and forces. Clouds that swell and roll. The crashing of waves. The trickling of water. The movement of air. And of course, the falling of snow.
Inspiration for A Light Snow
The idea for this story came from the combination of two experiences. The first was a campout I went on with a group of friends. We traveled to a remote location in the deserts of Southern Utah. We arrived just before sunset the red rocks appearing to be on fire from the glow of the setting sun. The landscape was dotted with the flora of the desert. A few clouds reflecting the oranges and pinks of the sun. Stars began to show and in no time the darkened sky was a blanket dotted with a billion stars, the Milky Way vibrantly visible. If my friends noticed the glory of nature around them they did not make mention of it. Silence was not acceptable. Chatter and conversation were constant. A mere instant of silence was quickly squelched. It was as if silence as something to be feared.
The second experience was at an apartment complex I lived at. It was not uncommon for the residents here to gather outside, spread out blankets, throw a football, or popcorn a volleyball. Such a social setting is always accompanied by laughter and conversations. Silence was not something that participated in this setting. Surrounding this complex were magnificent trees, well manicured grass & hedges, flower gardens, and a glorious scene of mountains. Only a small percentage of people took notice of these. They loved the way the bark on the trees created a natural sort of camouflage, the interesting world below the canopy of grass that everyone sat upon (it was like Honey I Shrunk The Kids had made a big impact on the way they viewed the world around them), and would look at the mountains and be in awe at their cliff faces, canyons, peaks, and ridges.
With the second experience I found it interesting that few had the knack for noticing the little wonders that are all around. With the first experience I considered it intriguing that people didn’t seem to welcome the sound of silence. I wanted to create a story that combined the two, a manmade setting such as a village that was only filled with nature.