Snow: Chapter 1

Snow
Chapter  1

It was, as some would call it, a horrible day.

The overcast sky showed little sign of receding, and the bloated clouds had finally decided to release their hold: torrents and torrents of rain.

Most had stayed indoors on this dreary day, preferring sleeping and dreaming over having to confront the world. Those who were awake took one look out the window and decided it was best not to leave the safety of their homes.

But she didn’t feel that way. A girl, dressed only in her pajama pants and baggy t-shirt smiled and laughed as she ran around in the early morning rain. She was soaked within seconds of departing her house, but seemed to pay no attention. She jumped into puddles, cheering with a strange sense of joy.

Bare feet and all, she ran around; sprinting like a wild thing, grinning like a maniac. With each accelerated breath and each sporadic movement, she seemed to silently transform, she danced like there was nothing left to lose.

The girl stopped her wild dancing to catch her breath. As her heart rate slowed, her mind wandered. She allowed her mind to catch up with her body, and she suddenly chilled. Her brain was trying to tell her ‘you’re cold. Go back inside; change your clothes, rest.’ But, of course, she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t listen, because listening would be normal. Listening would be the thing every other person would do. So she laughed, numbed out the cold, and stayed.



Mid-way through the third hour, the rain stopped. It went from downpour to drizzle, finally becoming no more than drips of water falling off of house roofs.

The girl sighed. She was soaked to the bone and her skin felt clammy to the touch, but she had enjoyed the rain. A large puddle had formed around her feet as she stood, and it soaked her pajamas as she slowly walked toward her house.

Upon entering, she attempted to wring out the water from her pants, watching it drip out of the cotton. She didn't mind them being wet, but she also didn't feel like cleaning the floors up from puddles of rain water.

Task done, or, close to it, she fully entered her house.


The house in which she abode was on a street called Hier, which crossed with Colour Avenue, which intersected with License road. So, she lived in a complex, a maze of houses, all packed together like sardines in a can.

Her house was number 4 on the street, a fair sized building made of pale brick and dark shingles.

Her backyard was more of a forest than anything. She never mowed the grass or sprayed it with chemicals, so it grew on its own accord. The grass had reached shoulder length a few weeks ago, and she was sure a family of rabbits had their nest somewhere there.

Her room overlooked the garden, and she enjoyed just staring out her window and watching the world go by. The walls were white, but painted at the same time, her having taken an artist's paintbrush and multi-coloured paint to them long-ago. Different designs, shapes, doodles and drawings depicted moods and feelings, sometimes even memories, all created at different stages of her life.

There, by the door was her scribble of a house drawn in purple crayon by the two-year-old version of herself.

And over there, by the window, was a doodle of two stick people, one boy and one girl, both holding hands, artistically created by the girl when she was eight.

There were many, many drawings that were of the same person, just drawn at different ages. By the closet, under the window, and above the light switch, reside many seriously drawn portraits of a boy. Though the boy looked young, he had soft, white hair, which reminded the girl of the first snow of the year. In some pictures his hair was short, in others, long, and, in the most recent one, spiked up. She laughed every time she saw that one, the spikes somehow having reminded her of an onion.  His eyes were always hidden, as if providing an air of mystery about him. And in all of the pictures, he was smirking, a smile that said 'I know something no one else does'.



She walked into a large room, occupied only by a sofa and a small T.V, small pools of water forming behind her. Plopping down on the floor (because sitting on the couch would be what everyone else would do), she turned on the television. The clock at the corner of the screen indicated that it was now 7:45 in the morning. She wondered if her parents were already up. Shrugging, she found a channel that she liked, and watched.



She had parents, yes, but it would be better to say that she didn't. She loved her parents, and they loved her, but, like her, they weren't…average. The girl's mother and father reminded her of ghosts, always being somewhere in her home, but never really present. They even seemed to 'glide' around the house, never making a sound as they walked.

She admired them to a passionate extent. To her, they were celebrities, and she was just a solitary fanatic who loved them so. She loved following them around, just looking at them, feeling the rays of mystery emanate from the beings.

They seemed to never leave the house, seemed to never do anything but lurk around, and yet the bills were paid, food was bought, and dinners were cooked. They only rarely had dinners together; usually the girl would find her dinner on the table with no trace of anything having been used to make it. It was always warm, always just the way she liked it.

But she never found it strange.

Just like how she never found the fact that there was hardly any furniture in the house she had been living in all her life strange either.

She heard the quiet whoosh of a being descending the stairs, and the girl lowered the volume on the T.V. Her parents didn’t like loud noises.

She turned her head just in time to see a flicker of grey disappear in the direction of the kitchen. She stood up to follow her parental figure, but stopped herself and sat back down. Her parents didn’t like to be bothered much either.

Sighing, she was about to resume her previous action, when she heard a faint sound. She turned toward the source, it being her backyard door.


Tap……tap……tap…


A thin, pale finger tapped on the glass; the outlines of its owner barely visible against the heavy tint.

The girl grinned, practically leaping off the ground and running to the sliding door. She had it open in an instant, revealing the identity of the figure she knew all too well.
The grin still plastered on her face, she whispered


“Snow…”


She jumped on him, quickly embracing him in a crushing hug, and she laughed. It wasn't all too often that Snow came for a visit.

The white-haired boy toppled over against her bear-like hug. He landed on the semi-hard dirt with a deep thump, the girl now on top of him. He was surprised by the sudden attack, but quickly retained a 'cool' composure. He smiled, and looked up at her.
The girl smiled right back, silent but joyful as he stared. They paused, breathing a little more awkwardly than usual.

“What brings you here today Snow? I thought you weren't going to come...”  She asked, loosening her grip on Snow's arms. Her wet clothes left damp patches on his as Snow sat up.


He laughed, and to her, it was like a chorus of angels – heavenly. It made her feel like there was nothing to be worried about.

He leaned back on his hands, now sitting comfortably beside her on the grass.

“I was... in the neighborhood. And you; you called me didn't you?” His voice was calm and quiet, and he smiled at her with a knowing look.

She blushed, and averted his gaze.

“Yes. I was...I was lonely, okay? Out there, in the rain. Not that I don't like the rain. It's just more fun to be in it with...someone else. With...you.”

Again he laughed, and again the angels sung. A gust of wind whooshed through the tall grass, causing them to sway.

“Well, I'm flattered. How about the next time it rains, you tell me why you want me with you instead of just wishing I was there?”

His comment made her blush even more, if it were possible, but she managed a nervous smile in his direction.

“A-alright.” She stuttered. “I'll do that Snow.”

He smiled, and patted the ground beside him lightly with his hand, motioning for the girl to come closer.

She followed his direction, now so close their bodies were touching.

“That's my girl,” He whispered to her as his arms embraced her, holding her tightly.

The girl slowly let her head rest on his shoulder.

“That's my Cayte...” she heard him say as she gently closed her eyes.