Winter’s Tail

There is snow everywhere. It keeps piling up. It is not melting. It’s almost June.

My daughter and I haven’t been outside in months, not since the total solar eclipse and the unending darkness that followed. Each morning—at least what we assume is morning—she and I go outside in our heavy winter coats, hoods on, and walk to the only store still open: Greene’s.

Greeted by the always cheery Mr & Mrs Greene, saying the same thing in the same way like clockwork. We acted in kind as if someone was watching us. Today Mr Greene looked scared and tried talking with his eyes, it was at that moment I heard..

the wind wuther through the branches. It was strange, since the town had always been surrounded by mountains that blocked such strong winds. "Wha-" As if the strings of a marionette was cut, Mr & Mrs Greene crumpled to the now groaning wooden floor. "We have to get out of here!"

The wind howled as it beat against the house, causing the glass of the windows the bow. “Where could we even go in this?” I asked. “If we go out there, we’ll die!” “And if we stay in here, we’re also likely to die!” Mrs. Greene retorted. “If it caves in, we’ll be crushed!”

“We have to get to the most secure location in the house,” I said. Mrs. Greene pointed behind us. “The closet under the stairs!” We hurried through the dining room, where Mrs. Greene pulled open a door. We sat amidst coats and Christmas decorations, and emerged later, unscathed.