Word Count: 968
Rating: K/E (for everyone)
Genre: Paranormal Fiction
Background: Another shorty from '09, edited & posted for the lulz. Inspired by a Dan Fogelberg song "Old Tennessee".
Link to Winter
Winter by Kelsey Teresea
I woke up this morning to the sound of the wind in the trees reminding me that winter was coming. I sat up to close the window from that crisp autumn breeze and chanced a peek into the outside. It was nearing the end of October, and the woods already started to look sleepy, confirming what the wind had already told me. I blew into my cupped hands to warm them briefly before clasping the metal handle and, giving it a good shove, closed the window on the dulling world outside for the last time this year.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slipped into the gray moccasins waiting from the night before, my feet hugging the curves and indents of the well-worn flannel and faux-fur. Their coolness made me feel minutely more alert. They would warm up soon.
I meandered down the dimly lit hallway into the little kitchen, turning directly to the stove to put the kettle on. I pulled a large mug off the drying rack next to the water-stained silver sink. My left hand placed it on the counter next to the already hissing kettle while my right browsed through the boxes of teas lining the wall of the counter. None of them looked appetizing.
Sighing, I turned to the small wooden table littered with sheaves of paper and empty mugs from days bygone. Many of the dirtied mugs still had strings stained brown and gray hanging limply from their lips. I grabbed my heavy deerskin coat from the back of the chair, holding it slightly aloft as I struggled with the flannel one underneath it. Finally managing to free the lighter jacket, I carefully laid the deerskin one back on the chair and made my way to the back door.
I walked out into the garden, the rusty metal hinges creaking as I pushed the weathered wooden gate open. I sidled thorough and made a drowsy beeline to the little patch near the house that I reserved for my herbs. I bent down, smelling the stench of the earth from the sweet morning dew. Most of the herbs were beginning to fade, the dead-brown color creeping up their little stems, infiltrating their leaves. I gingerly sniffed the chamomile, letting it's warmly pungent spice scent soothe my nostrils – it was still fresh. I grabbed a handful.
As I was dusting the earth from my thick cotton pants, I stopped short while there was a flash of yellow in my peripheral. I looked up in time to see a gust of wind burst forth from behind the woods. The leaves rolled in a splendid wave of yellow and red and orange then came to land, scattered, about my feet and the garden in a wet, brown mass.
I turned my gaze back to the forest where gray clouds were lumbering onto the sad yellow sky. And there. Lightning. Quick as an arrow. A few moments bated breath, and, there. The deep growl of the thunder shook a few jittery leaves from the trees. They fell, fluttering wildly, to the ground. A wolf stood at the edge of the forest.
What an awe-inspiring specimen! The wolf was pure white and it stood perfectly still, it's ears erect and tail completely relaxed. It was slightly larger than a regular wolf, and it was facing me. A chill wracked my spine and I shivered, dropping a chamomile plant. It made a small plop as it hit the mud right as another lightning bolt ripped across the sky. The wolf and I shared an abyssal glance before the thunder came lumbering through in another tree-shaking guttural moan.
The wolf slowly turned it's majestic head to the sky as more leaves fluttered off their branches, flashing orange and red. And then, the beast began to change.
The wolf rippled from head to tail. It's snow-white body began to warp and stretch. The neck and legs were elongating at an alarming rate and the skin underneath the fur was a pale translucence. Swirls of ethereal teal light swam around under the blindingly white fur. The wolf began panting slightly, it's pink tongue poking in and out of it's mouth like a gopher tasting the air.
The wolf, at this point, barely resembled any worldly creature. I continued to stare, awestruck. It raised it's enormous head higher and opened it's huge crocodile jaws to the stormy October sky. It whipped it's willowy tail once and, with an ear shattering and Earth rumbling crack of bright blue lightning, it was gone.
I held my breath, and my ground, waiting for the tremors of thunder to pass. The forest gave one last shudder, and then everything was still.
I wanted to flee back inside – my clothes were damp and my feet were cold, but another low, distant rumble of thunder stopped me. I looked up into the gray sky, bidden by the deep call. Instinctively, I shaded my eyes with the palm of my free hand as the sky became intensely bright. I continued to stare as my vision slowly returned in tiny, glistening specks. I blinked once, slowly, and was kissed by snowflakes.
I opened my eyes to see the dancing white flakes in the air. They drifted onto the trees and the leaves and the earth, covering it with a sparkling frost. They touched down silently around me.
I marveled in the beauty. It was breathtaking.
The spell was broken as my focus shifted to a piercing, distant noise.
The kettle was boiling.
I moved back toward the house haltingly, as if awakened from a dream.
And I had been.
Or had I?
For as I crossed the threshold from outside into kitchen, I found myself facing the outside.
The white, white winter outside.
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