💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › snow.txt captured on 2023-11-14 at 12:22:22.
⬅️ Previous capture (2023-06-16)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
B ??, F TYPE 4 2.00 2.00 ** 1
F
F
F
?????? ???????????????? ???????? Michael Stutz Independent Study with Dr. Kirk April 10, 1990 A bucolic wooden fence lines the backdrop of the park, composed of weather-worn oak boards stretching skyward and aligned together in a sublime row. A few small, snow-swept pines dot the surrounding area in clusters of two or three. The dry earth underneath holds the burlap from which they were wrapped, now exposed to the wintry stillness. The trees are illuminated by tall iron street lamps from the parking lot, where cars lay like toys. Behind the fence the dark chocolate forest lays in a black watercolor smear, blending into the indigo December sky. Freezing rain pelts down with a dismal syncopation. The northern wind bangs against the gigantic, leafless elm trees on the hill to the left. Their spidery limbs lay still and are veiled in the misty air. The rain-water can be heard dripping into the sewers by the cars. Atop the hilly grass, the snow is matted from rain and footprints. It is this setting that Jane Gillcrest and Ed Thompson arrived for a midnight sledding excursion. Jane had shown visible excitement in that she'd get a chance to be with her friend in such a neo-romantic locale. Ed just wanted to relive his childhood glory as king of the toboggans. They had no problem getting out of the house at eleven-thirty on a weeknight - it was winter break, just a few days before Christmas, and as such neither of them had any pressing plans for the next morning, except maybe get a few last-minute gifts for the family, which was to be expected. The drive there was uneventful, they had spent most of the time admiring some of the local Christmas decorations that the ex- hippies, the yuppies, and the future muppies had placed outside of their respective adobes. Standing atop a sharp incline, Jane studied the gully it formed at the bottom, where the thirty foot slope met the flat field. "You know, I don't think there's enough snow down there to cushion our sled." Her face bore a thoughtful expression. Ed was already sitting down on his side of the sled, waiting for her to board. "Don't worry about it. It's fine," he said, and almost added: "Besides, you'll be in front." He patted the front of the sled and she reluctantly sat down in deference. "That last one was kinda close, too.." The rain had hardened their clothes and beat into their faces when Ed pushed them off the top. His wet baseball cap barely covered his ears and was equally useless in keeping the rain off his head. For a brief moment they could see the entire forest surrounding the large, white field that lay before them. As the plastic tub dipped downward, Ed felt the euphoric feeling of complete loss of bodily control and heard Jane let out a fusillade of intense shouts. her hands were bonded to the legs of his jeans. Those few seconds after breaking the precipice felt like a suspended eternity to Ed, and the wetness that was about him took on a sudden freshness. The wind blowing in his face along with Jane's long golden hair was suddenly affable and carefree. The sled glided down the hill almost completely without a sound, yet it seemed to scream with a thunder not unlike Jane's vocal chords. Ed let out a whoop. When they careened to the bottom, the sled hit the ditch with sudden force which flung them mercilessly from the sled, breaking both of their screams with rude abruptness. Jane landed facedown in the snow, and Ed managed to become wedged between the hard ground and the now-capsized sled. They sat there for a brief moment in the aftermath, the cadence of constant rainfall in their ears. Jane shook herself up and surveyed the outcome of the debacle. "Ooow! My back is KILLING me! Oooow!" Ed kept still under the sled, fatuously feigning an injury. "Hey, Eddie, get up!" Jane fumbled over to his body and tugged on his jacket. "Eddie, you okay? Eddie?" She looked down at his face. Ed let his mouth form a slow grin and let out a sheepish, "Yeah." "Let's get back to the car. I don't know about you, but I'm freezin!" Jane agreed and the two of them limped back to the parking lot, their spirits dwindling as the realization of their coldness crept over them. When they got to Ed's car, he had trouble getting the key to turn, and they stood there shaking in the cold. Geesh, this really helps things, he thought. C'mon, Ed, get that damn key in there! "Finally! Get in, " he told her as he opened her door. He threw the sled in the back seat atop his school books and snow scraper, and started the car. It took a while for the car to warm up in the cold temperature, and so Ed had to refrain from turning on the heater. "God, I'm free-zing! My knees are just shaking!" he said. Jane admitted that they were. "But it looks cute," she said with a smile. "I hate that word." "Why?" she asked him. "Because it sounds like something you call a stuffed animal. You know, a dog's cute, a teddy bear's cute, but I'm NOT cute!" He smiled at her. She laughed in her characteristic style and said, "Okay. You're not cute at all." When the windshield was defogged to Ed's level of satisfaction, he turned on the lights and heater and pulled out of the parking lot. It was down in the valley; they drove up a narrow road overlooking the slushy slopes and dark forest, passing the pine conglomeration and left Pinewood Park. They were silent for a ways, mesmerized by the windshield wipers, which on slow speed perfectly swept the droplets of rain off the windshield in a constant rhythmic fashion. Getting closer to Jane's house, in the residential area of town, Ed took in his surroundings: the midnight road, the comfortable houses, and the pine trees. As they were climbing a particularly big hill, he saw a milky white light expanding through the fog at the crest of the hill. The moonlike glow outlined every detail on the top patch of road, including the gravel and broken glass on the berm. The pines near the road were showered with an energy like a country sunrise. It slowly rose until it momentarily blinded them, then dividing into two distinct circles. Without flash or fanfare, the smoky vapors disappeared and the roadside put its nighttime cloak back on as the passing car drove by. "Jane, that's the best thing I like about driving at night." She was slightly startled by the abrupt break in the silence. "What is?" "When you see the light from a car overhill. It's beautiful, it really is. I think it's sort of a universal symbol, like a beacon of hope. Does that mean anything, or am I just rambling?" "No, go on." She looked interested. "That was an especially gratifying one. He seemed to take his time, inching along, getting bigger. And the hill was real big, too." With another moment of thought he continued. "It's almost a letdown when you see the car." Jane reached over to his hand. "That was beautiful." "Gee, thanks. It was just something I thought of. Oh hell, feel sick, Jane. My clothes are still wet. How about yours?" "Not too bad. I've got more vents on my side." She directed some of the air vents on the dash toward Ed. "Thanks. When you're sick, the wet feels bad tugging at you. I wonder if I have Ryes Syndrome." Jane laughed. "No, silly. That happens when you take aspirin when you have a fever. But it only happens to people our age. Teenagers." Ed felt slightly nervous, and this was apparent in the way he spoke. "I'm feeling really sick. My stomach hurts, and my head's pounding." "My bosses' nephew died a couple of months ago from Ryes. She was only sixteen, younger than us." She looked at him with compassion, and said, "suck on an orange, it'll clean out your system. I know how you feel, even water feels like it has a film on it, so don't have any. That's because of all the chemicals they pump into it." "Yeah, Pepsi's okay because it's so carbonated and you can't taste the gunk. I just wanna get better." The roads were slick from the freezing rain and clumps of snow, and so he had to drive slowly. They were following the yellow strobe of a salt truck now, and it looked like it was heading toward Jane's development. Funny, Ed thought. He's not putting down any salt. Soon a police cruiser pulled out of a side street onto the road, heading in the opposite direction, and the salt truck put its salt release on full. Ed didn't appreciate it very much. "Lookit those jerks. Salt's going all over the place. It's going to ruin my paint job." The salt crystals whisked under his tires and crackled underneath the car. Ed was relived to pull into Jane's driveway and off the trail of the truck. "Goodnight, honey," she said, and gave him a kiss. "Get some rest, you look awful." "So that's why you like me, isn't it?" he joked. "Of course. Call me tomorrow. Bye." He watched her run up to her door, and get in, half uninterested because of the throbbing in his body. He pulled out of the drive at top speed and guided his car down the road. Passing the city hall on the way home, he couldn't help notice the elaborate Christmas lights his Ohio town had put up this year. The multicolored lights shone through the misty night, making the air cheery and bright. Hey, it rhymes, he thought. Too bad noone else is out tonight to see this. He drove on, driving down the hilly backroads of his city. Passing one of the white shoebox houses, he looked at it's front light, which looked like the light on the Heritage House food cartons at home. It looked like some kind of beacon on the little whitewashed wooden pole. The light refracted through the glass in several directions. A beacon, he thought. Like the car lights. He forgot about his physical pain and slowed down. Looking at the quaint house with its humble light in the front yard, he thought about their sled trip and how fun it was. It was like art, he mused. Even the greatest artists never accomplished all that they wanted to. Or did they? I sure didn't finish doing everything I've wanted to. There really is a limited time to doing things. God, I know that you can't have it all but I guess this is the first time that I realized that you can't even have a substantial amount of it. That's depressing as hell, Ed Thompson. But it's probably true. So heaven must be eternal art or something? And one thing is sure of life -- you're going to die. And I guess that's when everything is complete. Ed continued towards home, following the midnight road.
F