Snowed In

Each flake danced in slow motion, swirling through the crisp air. The villagers couldn't recall such a snowfall. Beautiful, but peculiar. A great, white blanket soon enveloped the little hamlet.

In middle of the village lived Hugo. From his cottage, he cast a disapproving glare over everyone’s comings and goings. Himself, he rarely ventured beyond his fence. He spoke to the other townsfolk even less.

Hours passed and the precipitation continued. That day, the next, and the one after that. Endless, dancing snowflakes piled higher, blocked roads, and barricaded doorways.

Hugo enjoyed the ensuing calm. Once the children lost their excitement, they retreated indoors. All was peaceful. Being a loner, Hugo had plenty of food and firewood on hand. He was content.

The storm was relentless. Days became weeks. People stopped going out.

Hugo watched out his window, counting how often his neighbors moved about. He wondered how they kept warm and fed. Not that he cared, he reminded himself. It was a matter of curiosity.

One morning Hugo awoke early. The strange snow was still going strong. He ate his toast, drank his coffee, and gazed out the window, thinking.

When he finished his breakfast, Hugo bundled up and pushed his way out the back door and to his shed. There he retrieved his shovel.

First, he cleared a path to his gate. Then opened it. Soon, he'd shoveled to the street.

“Maybe I’ll clear the way over to the Shulz house,” he thought.

And that’s what he did.