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Footprints in the Snow

Time waits for no man.

By Jasmine S.Published 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 14 min read
14
Footprints in the Snow
Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash

TW/CW: Self-harm is vaguely mentioned.

Gently swaying back and forth like a buoy moving with the flow of the sea, Jordan came to slowly. Greeted with fragmented lights and distorted images, like a camera shutter, he cleared his vision. Instantly, realizing the roof did not hold the familiarity of his room at home. With adrenaline-infused muscles, he scrambled to his feet and turned while absorbing his surroundings. Boxes stacked neatly around the circumference of the - room? But he felt subtle movement, so, maybe — a van? Either way, he should not have been there.

While the area was well illuminated, he wasn’t tied up and didn’t feel any injuries; Jordan still felt an urgency to leave, to find his way home. Steadily and with greater confidence, he inspected the room, for lack of a better word, but unfortunately, he couldn’t see an exit. Instead, his growing confidence dissolved into worry, which manifested into hysteria.

“Is anyone there? Hello-o-o, let me out!” Jordan punctuated each word with a fist or a kick to one of the crates. So entrenched in his emotions, Jordan did not hear his name spoken the first time.

Hysteria fueling his actions, he moved to cause as much destruction as possible in the hopes of gaining the attention of someone. However, like the wind gliding through the leaves of a tree, a whisper floated past his ear.

“Jordan.”

Almost dislocating a shoulder after aborting a swing, Jordan whipped around to face the figure, his back smothering the wall behind him. Standing in the center of the room was a woman clad in a light grey skintight suit. A black sleeveless vest over the top, with a high collar, blue accent trim, and what appears to be grey high-tops with the same accent color. Now that he had someone to direct his fury, Jordan did not waste time getting to the crux of the matter.

“Who the hell are you, and why am I trapped in th-th-this room?”

The stranger stared, eyes flitted over his face, then creasing at the corners, which he suspected was a smile gracing her face. While his eyebrows squeezed tightly, he stared back at the stranger dubiously, his discomfort increasing. However, he was adamant about not saying another word before she answered his questions. He didn’t have to wait long.

Blowing a silent breath, she seemed to gather as she said, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or who you think you are, but let me off — whatever this is — and we can both go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way. Unfortunately, there is no getting off. Unless…”

“Unless?” When no answer was forthcoming, Jordan sized up the stranger and wondered if he could take her down and find a way out. At that moment, she seemed deep in thought, looking off to the side, like the corner of the room held the answer to his question. Coiling his muscles, he felt the veins enlarging, preparing his body to spring, but before he could follow through, she turned to face him.

“Unless you make a choice,” she concluded.

Jordan couldn’t figure out why she sounded and looked dejected, but that was neither here nor there. He just wanted out.

“Ok, cool. I can do that. Lemme have it.” He rubbed his hand together, fully anticipating leaving this place in the next couple of minutes. “What are my choices?”

“We shall both find out.” Her eyes shifted to look behind him.

Like peeling an orange, a doorway revealed itself accompanied by blinding white light. “You can’t expect me to just—,” he began, but she was already gone. He swallowed what felt like a frog in his throat and took a step forward.

----

Photo by Vincent Medeiros on ArtStation

“No-flippin-way. That lady can’t be serious.” Jordon knocked on everything within reach to solidify his current reality. “He-y-y! HEY! Joke’s over.” A hysterical giggle bubbled up his throat, like the fizz of a coke can shaken too hard. His frustration mounted when, once again, silence followed. Not even the wheels striking the tracks responded to his outburst.

Everything was pristine, so unlike the area where he’d woken up. Lights streaked at breakneck speed, reds, blues, and greens, past the window. It seemed nothing surprised him at this point. However, as far as he was concerned, he was supposed to be... Blinding pain sliced across his forehead, streaking towards the base of his skull to encompass his entire head, like a watermelon with too many rubber bands, ready to explode. He jarred his knees and slumped over, unable to withstand the debilitating pain.

“Jordan. What are you doing?”

Through clenched jaws, he said, “Head... hurts.” Then, just as the words escaped the confines of their prison, the pain vanished. But, in its wake, he was left with a phantom pinprick in the crock of his elbow.

“Better?” Jordan wobbled his head in answer. “Great, let us continue.”

She arranged him in front of the window. He realized they were about the same height. Though she did look a few years older than him. He drew himself to his fullest height and managed to gain a few precious inches.

“Concentrate,” she admonished him. Jordon flushed tomato red after he was caught.

Tsking, she went on to say, “I want you to focus, to see the overall picture. Look at the whole and not the individual details.”

Jordan didn’t understand what she wanted but determined; anything to escape this twisted reality one way or another. He stared, eventually, his surroundings faded to nothing as the lights altered and warped their shape, the colors blended to paint a crystal clear moving picture

Sweat-slicked hair stuck to red flushed cheeks, accompanied by a cacophony of sounds. Now clear and crisp, when before sounds were muffled and distorted. But one stood out; a laugh. It made him wiggle and contorted in fits of movements while he was encased in liquid warmth. Then, awaiting the familiar press of a heated palm that always seemed to know where he was situated. He was still unable to reciprocate but did the next best thing. He held tightly to the finger that pressed feather-soft against his palm.

“You’re finally here.”

Jordan swallowed repeatedly and tried to halt the sobs rattling his chest. He swiped at the tears and took in large gulps of air, but it was a losing battle. He groped for the nearest bench and allowed his emotions to take him away for a while.

The rustle of fabric alerted Jordan. He looked around, and every seat in the train car was taken. All were unique, but something inherently similar made them a cohesive whole. By now, he knew they couldn't possibly be here just as the stranger came and went as she pleased.

“Why do you cry, child?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t explain what I saw or felt.” Jordan answered without looking for the one who spoke to him.

“A mother’s love is a profound thing to experience. I reckon anyone would be moved to tears after witnessin’ what you just did.” She cupped his clasped hands and continued, “Never forget that feelin’, my child.”

“A mother’s love,” Jordan silently recited to himself.

After some time as he’d suspected, the train car was vacant besides the stranger waiting at the door to the next train car. Jordan took in a fortifying breath before moving to meet her.

“Are you ready?”

“I have one question. What happened when I looked out the window?” There were no moving pictures as they looked out the window only the light streaks moving past.

“Whatever it was that you saw was for you alone. Approach the door when you are ready.”

----

Though thoroughly prepared this time, he still took a bracing breath before meeting her in the middle of the train car. She gave him a small smile, evident by the crinkles creasing the skin of her eyes. Jordan faced the window and watched as the lights swirled and morphed, converging to outline the form of a small child.

Rosy cheeks were stained with tears, a mass of corkscrew curls flopping against his forehead, and chubby legs pattering the ground as he ran full tilt into his mother's legs.

"Mama, 'urts."

Tenderly, she stroked his sweat-damp hair, whispering inarticulate words to comfort him. Then, she nursed a scraped knee he got while playing in the backyard and kissed the bandaged wound and his forehead. Afterward, he zoomed away, having forgotten he’d hurt himself.

Like an afterimage, he felt the warm press of lips on his forehead. The same tear tracks decorated Jordan's face, this time, he didn't attempt to stem the flow. Simultaneously, like a vice clenching tighter and tighter, his chest felt like it was caving in, leaving a hole as wide and deep as the ocean. But on the cusp of the hurt becoming unbearable, as a seamstress repairs a torn garment, the aching wound slowly sealed shut as if it had never been. Jordan used the stanchion as a crutch to slide gracelessly to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest.

Sometime later, he felt a presence. Utterly exhausted, he waited for them to speak.

"Yo, man. I know the feeling."

"How could you when even I don't know."

"Everyone does, dude, in one form or another. That feeling when something goes wrong, and you don't know what to do to make it right again, with no one else to turn to, our parents are there to kiss the hurt away or steer us in the right direction."

Jordan knuckled his eyes to surreptitiously glance around. From his previous experience, he wasn't amazed to see the train car packed. However, the same feeling of familiarity persisted.

"I would like to say I remember, but anytime I try to think of something from before, a thick fog obscures the memory keeping it just out of reach. And afterward a mother of all headaches."

"Well, I can't say I know THAT feeling. But keep pushing, my man. You're almost at the end of the tunnel.”

Jordan looked ahead and saw her standing at the entrance of the next car. He climbed to his feet; he didn't know how much more he could take but resolved that he would make it to the end.

----

"Dad... DAD!"

"I'm out here," he shouted back.

Huffing and puffing, he told his father he'd made the baseball team. They'd practiced a lot during the summer readying for tryouts when school resumed. Blood, sweat, and tears were expended, but seeing the beaming smile plastered on his face was worth it.

"I'm proud of you, son. I'm here whenever you need an extra mitt to help you practice. Always."

"Thanks, Dad."

Instead of tears or the overwhelming sense of... love and need, a warm glow of pride and accomplishment infused his being, like warming up with a cup of hot chocolate during a chilly night. Following that, the now anticipated rustle of movement occurred.

"Pleasing one's father is an exhilarating feeling, is it not?

"If that's what I experienced, then yes... yes it is."

"But better is the knowledge that he will be there for you when you need him." He looked at Jordan expectantly.

Jordan nodded, then asked, "Have you?"

"If you mean have I shared moments with my father, I did. I have also never taken him for granted. When I needed him for anything, no matter what, he was there, always."

The stranger once again stood at the door and waved him forward.

"This is the end of the line."

Jordan's eyebrows bowed in confusion; the lights outside the windows still flew past.

"I thought I had a decision to make?"

"You do. Through this door is the end or a new beginning."

He stood rooted to the spot; her cryptic words did nothing to ease his anxiety. At first, he thought his predicament would be smooth sailing, but he wasn't so sure after her ominous words. But he'd come this far. There was no point in stalling the inevitable. So before he walked through the door, he stopped to thank her. Not for her help but for her presence, the comfort of another person; unfortunately, she wasn't there. He looked behind, the train car was devoid of life like every other time before. Jordan squared his shoulders, no more looking back; the only way was forward and stepped through to the other side.

----

By Rostyslav Savchyn on Unsplash

No tracks, no walls, no controls. However, Jordan could feel the train's subtle movements. At this point, like everything else, he realized it just was and thought no more of it. The entire front of the train was glass or what appeared to be glass. He had no desire to find out either way. He walked the perimeter but kept well away from the maybe glass.

Like a freight train, the headache he valiantly kept at bay blindsided him. Between one blink and the next, he was on the floor. He grimaced, groaned, and moaned through endless pulses of agonizing pain. Accompanying the pain, however, like a flipbook animation from as far back as he could remember, his life scrolled past his mind's eye. Until a frozen snapshot captured the moment when his life changed for better or worse. As a river flows downstream, the headache bubbled away. Then suddenly, it all became clear; he knew what he needed to do.

The stranger gently helped Jordan to his feet, steadying him when it looked like he would topple over. Her eyes glassy with unshed tears; she said, "Tell me."

Jordan returned her smile and said, "Life."

"I'm glad," she choked.

Impossibly, he felt more than saw the train accelerate. A light emerged ahead; he wasn't sure if it was another train or the end of the line, but he was ready. He stopped short when he saw the serenity on the now exposed face of the stranger.

"You know, I never did get your name."

"It’s Ashley. I hope to see you soon."

Bewildered, "But—"

The world exploded into a fragmented kaleidoscope of color, evolving to blinding white.

----

Incessant beeping pierced his eardrum and resonated in his head. Blearily he opened his eyes to yet another unfamiliar ceiling. Though, unlike before, the constant beeping was the first indication he was in a hospital. Next, he spied his Mom lying some distance away. Like the Sahara desert, his mouth was arid and his tongue thick. Nonetheless, he croaked to gain his Mom's attention.

Faster than light, she stood at his bedside; frantically, she kissed every inch of his face while her tears fell like raindrops, saturating his hospital gown. Shortly after that, his father came skidding through the door, followed closely by the doctor. The doctor did a thorough checkup, announcing that Jordan was in the clear but would like him to stay a few more days.

Once everything had calmed down, his mother was still beside herself with worry and relief; she made him promise to never attempt what he did again. The devastation she felt when she found him passed out on his bed with an open pill bottle on the floor was a situation she never wanted to live through a second time. He solemnly promised she won't ever have to.

One year later

Since his release from the hospital, Jordan reminisced on his time spent in a coma. Apparently, he had been in the hospital for months, but it felt like days for him. More specifically, he recalled the last words said to him before the approaching light encompassed them. He had long since convinced himself that it was somehow a figment of his subconscious protecting him. Yet, Jordan could not shake the feeling of familiarity with those souls he’d met.

Sitting in the hospital's waiting room, he was shaken out of his reflection when his dad called him into the room. His mom, holding a bundle, her smile contagious, he couldn't help the one spreading on his own lips.

"Wow, mom. She's beautiful," he said in awe. "What's her name?"

"Ashley."

immediate family
14

About the Creator

Jasmine S.

Born: The Bahamas, Grand Bahama

Trying my hand at short stories, I always liked to read but never thought I could write stories. It's never too late to start. I appreciate any reads or comments.

Thank you!

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  3. Eye opening

    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

  1. Expert insights and opinions

    Arguments were carefully researched and presented

  2. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

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Comments (12)

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  • Jo Mcvay2 years ago

    Beautifully done.

  • Heather Hubler2 years ago

    Beautiful story of what so often ends in tragedy. The ending was perfect :) Thank you for tackling this sensitive subject. It was handled with care, well done.

  • C. H. Richard2 years ago

    Wow beautiful twist at the end! Hearted ❤️ Well done!

  • Morgana Miller2 years ago

    Aw the ending gave me goosebumps! I loved the imagery in this as well, beautiful story.

  • Linda Rivenbark2 years ago

    "...when something goes wrong, and you don't know what to do to make it right again, with no one else to turn to, our parents are there to kiss the hurt away or steer us in the right direction." This is a beautiful description of what Moms and Dads do for their children - when they can. The hard part of parenting is when they cannot help. I love that this story had a happy ending with the surprise of little sister named Ashley.

  • Meagan Dion2 years ago

    VERY nice! Great use of description!

  • Cathy holmes2 years ago

    This is fabulous and so well done.

  • As a suicide survivor, this was very relatable. Fantastic story!

  • Tony Galbier2 years ago

    This was a really great read, Jasmine! Your descriptions are on point and your story telling superb!

  • What exquisite description! "Like peeling an orange" and " A hysterical giggle bubbled up his throat, like the fizz of a coke can shaken". Such a pleasure to read

  • Babs Iverson2 years ago

    Splendid!!!👏💖💕

  • Russell Ormsby 2 years ago

    Nice job my friend. Keep up the good work 👍

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