The Storm

Outside, heavy gray clouds hung above me, a gentle cold wind tickling my bare skin. The snow crunched under my boots as I walked, searching for a good place to dispose of the tiny invader. Outside of the narrow road leading in, our little lodge was surrounded by dark pines and spruces, heavy lumps of snow weighting them down. I threw the mouse at the edge of the forest, hoping some scavenger would appreciate its dinner. For a moment it looked like it still twitched, droplets of blood staining the snow.

“No wonder about that mouse. Did they even clean here?” my wife said after I got inside and washed off. Under the all-encompassing smell of wood and resin, there was a lingering, musty smell. I tried to ignore the dust bunnies that had gathered in the corners.

“It was a good deal.”

“Cheap, you mean,” she said and threw her jacket on the worn red couch, then plopping down herself. The old CRT TV that was placed above the fireplace admittedly didn’t help my argument.

“At least we have the mountains waiting. All that snow and the views… Give it a day and you will start loving it,” I said, placing a kiss on her forehead. She gave me a tired smile, brushing my cheek.

“I know. I shouldn’t complain.”

“Save those complaints for tomorrow,” I said with a grin. “I’m going to finally make you learn snowboarding, no matter what.”

“You know I’m the undefeated master at not keeping my balance,” she said.

“Not for long,” I smiled. Suddenly, a loud knock at the door caught my attention.

“Could you…?”

I opened the door, and there stood a figure of a man, a hood covering his face. A long and thin snout of a fox peaked out, dark eyes glistening in the shadow of the hood.

“The storm is soon upon you. Don’t look.”

“Honey? Who is it?”

“Oh, it’s just the man from reception,” I said, and turned to the old man, who smiled.

“Ye, just came to tell ya that a big storm’s comin’. Heard ‘t on the weather channel, wanted to make sure everyone knows, ya know? I’d recommend ya keep inside for that. Don’t want anyone trapped in it, ya know?” the old man said, giving a wrinkly smile.

“Thank you. We’ll make sure to stay inside.”

“Good, good. Well, good evening to ya,” the man said and tipped his beanie.

“You too,” I said and watched the old man go. I glanced up, the heavy veil still hanging above.

“He came all the way here just to tell that? I don’t remember any storm being mentioned on the radio,” my wife said.

“That’s probably why he came. Making sure people stay safe. But we have other things to worry about. Like unpacking.” She groaned.

Time passed, and by the time we were done with our bags and cleaning up, it was dark outside. I looked out through the large windows, barely distinguishing the cloudy sky from the silhouetted trees. My reflection stared back at me as I followed the flurry of snow that danced on the other side.

“Are you really going to leave the curtains open?” my wife said, preparing hot drinks in the open kitchen.

“Why not? I want to see outside.”

“It’s creepy!” she said, and I followed her reflection as she moved towards me.

“Fine.” I grabbed the curtains, their little wheels squeaking as I drew them. Much like the rest of the place, they looked old, the painted pictures of sunflowers on them faded. I listened as the wind outside was picking up, playing the wind chimes.

“It smells so good,” I said, and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her stir the hot chocolate.