Snow. by Terry Kuder III (electronic book reader .txt) 📕

The fire crackled and snapped, temporarily interrupting him from the daze that it had ensnared him in. He turned his head slightly to the right to get a perfect view of the first snowflake gliding down. Closing his eyes, he lightly smiled to himself. His thoughts seem to have wandered from one end of the earth to the next. He opened his eyes to find that there was a light sleet of snow now falling. The thoughts continued. He glanced back at the fire and was once again hypnotized by its freely flickering flames. The television had blared silently in the background with its minute commercials that always seemed to be advertising something to buy, especially around this time of the year. He grabbed the remote and turned it to one of the stations that were playing Holiday music, turning the volume down some. He looked at his watch. Six o'clock already? Sheesh, where did the time go? He once again allowed his thoughts to wander. How did he get here? Here? That was such a loose term being used at this time. Where was here? What was here? Here was....well, it was here. Here was every aspect of his life. Here was where the past had taken him. Here was who he was. Here was the new snow falling. Here was everything that there had brought him to.
The fire always seemed to compete with him as it snapped once again, disturbing his thoughts. He looked around the room and was amazed at how decorated it seemed to be with the lights hanging on the wall, the wreath hanging on the wall, the little snowmen statues placed here and there, the candles lit to give the room a serene mood, the tree brightly decorated with silver tinsel and different colored ornaments, and of course the pleasant fire burning. Yeah, he could sense it. He didn't know how or why, but he could sense it. He got up slowly, allowing his muscles to get a good stretch. Walking to the closet, he grabbed the warmest coat and put it on and walked outside zipping it up. A burst of freezing cold air blasted him, bringing a chill down his spine. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and walked down the steps.
He looked at the environment and what lain before him was magnificent. The trees were garmented with blankets of white. The vast mountains were painted pink and orange from the now setting sun. He caught a rabbit and a squirrel or two running in the glistening snow. It was as if God had intended for him to shine in the middle of this beautiful painting of his. As if the artist had painted this blue speck in the middle of this white landscape. Here was now. He caught himself smiling again. It was odd. Smiling, that is. He had never seemed to like to smile and now it was like his body had went against everything he had grown accustomed to and smiled on it's own. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes as the snow traveled downward and landed softly on the ground. He fell backwards and plopped in the snow. The snow flew up into the air and settled back down on him and the surrounding ground. It lightly tickled his nose before he brushed it off. He laid there momentarily before rotating his arms and legs back and forth, creating a snow angel. The cold air caused an ever-lasting chill in the air that didn't seem to cease. He looked around and noticed that there was a heavier blanket falling down. Pretty soon, he thought, the snow will have conquered everything around. He held his breath and listened to the silent pattering. It sounded a lot like rain. He also heard the scuffling of some small woodland creatures in the background and wondered what could be possibly be running through their minds. If they could think like us, then could it be possible for them to feel like us too? Did they find joy in chasing each other around through the woods?
Joy - such a complicated word. There were all types of joy; it was just a matter of which one you picked. It was the one emotion that everyone could feel in their own way, but yet it was harder to obtain. It was one that everyone wanted to feel, but would, in the end, lose their own dignity over it. It seemed more corrupted than greed. Greed was one type of joy, right? People all over the world had thought that money was something that could completely make them happy to the extent of losing their lives. In the end, it wasn't greed that killed the person, but it was the want to have complete joy. Was what he felt at this moment: joy? Was this his personal happiness? To be in utter silence with nothing but the sound of the sky dropping its delicate bombs upon the tender earth? He didn't really know. What he did know, though, was that a year ago, he was far from the feeling what he was feeling now.
These were one of the many such intricate thoughts that clouded the mind of the man that laid silently in the snow as it covered his body, inch by inch. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the arching sky. The dome look that it beheld made it seem endless and the clouds now covered up the blue, that was once there, making it seem as if the snowflakes were coming from nowhere. Life was flowing around him and unlike everyone else in the world, he was taking notice to it. He was watching life happen. It had amazed him how often people hadn't really thought about life. How they went on through their mundane lives never really caring about what was happening around them. He remembered at one time how he wanted to be part of that. How he wanted to be in the streets of New York, walking to one of his appointments while talking to his secretary about his future arrangements. He wanted to be deemed as a "suit and tie." He wanted to forget about life itself. He thought that if he had kept himself busy enough, then he wouldn't have to worry about life. He thought that life was always something that was given to you and not as something that you could make. Was that what had caused his unhappiness? Was it the fact that he was going to lose himself within the world? That he was going to become like every other pathetic human and only care about the things that were given to him in life? Not only because he wanted to, but rather because he thought he needed to. He thought that it was the materialistic things that could have brought real genuine joy. If that were the case, then what was this emotion that he was feeling? If society had characterized contentment by what you had, then how could what he felt have been happiness? He didn't have much. He was practically in the middle of the woods with nothing but the bare minimum and hardly enough money to even get the bare minimum. Yet, here he was, lying quietly in the snow, smiling...smiling about all of the things that he didn't have. This....what he felt...this had to be joy.
The snow crawled up his spine melting in his jacket and wetting his skin. He had lain long enough in the snow. He got up, the condensation coming off his breath like a brand new frost. He placed his hands in his pockets to warm them, looked around at the pristine environment, and chuckled to himself. The snow had now commandeered everything excluding the freshly made snow angel. He looked up, closed his eyes, held his arms out, and began spinning. He laughed more and more as he got dizzier with each spin. The powder made it tremendously difficult to catch his footing and before he knew it, he was falling over himself into the snow again. He took a moment to breathe before laughing out loud again. He felt like a kid again: carefree. Was that what caused his happiness? Not having to worry about anything? It seemed that this was the key to a child's success in life. This was seemingly the solution at hand to the impending question, but there was still something missing. Something that tinkered at the back of his mind and it moved around precariously, not allowing him to put his finger upon it.
The snow finally stopped colliding to the ground, its dissension a grand finale of orchestrated silence; the clumps falling off the pines of the trees were the final clash of the cymbals. Even the scuffling had ceased. He opened his eyes seeing the sky pull back its curtained clouds. It was a magnificent sight to see the sun glow its radiance upon the blinding skin of the snow. He smiled once more. A face appeared in front of his view, smiling brightly. The auburn hair flowed down like a waterfall splashing into the air. The red ribbon tied neatly behind the head, with a bow perched atop this mountain of strands, blew slightly with the flow of the wind. The face was upside down, but the dazzling blue eyes that stared down at him were enough. Enough to let him know. Two hands raised in front of this face with a snowball firmly between them. The snowball increase in size and came crashing down on his face. The face giggled a cute little laugh.
"Lost in thought again?" The face asked. He wiped the snow off his face, blowing a few flakes off.
"Yeah." He said lightly through another smile. It wasn't the simplicity of his life or the carelessness of it that had brought him the joy that he currently felt. It wasn't the fact that he had escaped the hustle and bustle of life that made his smile appear suddenly. It wasn't the snow, the playful creatures, or the childishness of making a snow angel that filled him up with intensity. The source behind all his thoughts, all his ideas and theories was hidden in the beautiful face that had just pummeled him with the cold fluff. He got up slowly only to have two arms wrap around him and knock him down again.
"Well, stop it." She said. "You know that's bad for you." she giggled again.
"Not this time." he replied.
"Oh? How so?"
"Well..." he started.
"No, no. Wait. Don't tell me now."
"Why not?" He looked down at the intrigued face a bit puzzled.
"Because I want you to tell me when I'm almost asleep later."
He smiled. "Alright." He wondered what brought her out here. He had tried not to wake her up when the snow