Inside Psychosis (A Collection of Short Stories)

Snow

                                                  Snow

                                        December 11th, 2014

Snow.

It crunched beneath my feet as I walked down the nearly deserted avenue. Cars passed every few minutes, but the small sheet of ice covering the road drove everyone to remain inside. Warm homes, the fires coming from the fireplaces melting away the world outside. The beautiful white wonderland that I held so near and dear to my heart. I despised warm climates, hated the way the heat felt on my hands and my face. I had never loathed anything more than summer. The thought of sweaty, hot mornings both annoyed and disgusted me.

I kept fans in my room for that very reason. I needed the cool air. I refused to suffocate on the hot breath of the August heat.

It was much too cold, however, for a lovely stride through the white blanket of snow. Yet, here I was, clad in a heavy coat, pants, and boots. I smiled; I loved the chill. I cherished the few months of winter and snowfall like I cherished the time off school. The time given to us to enjoy the season and the holidays brought with it.

I never cared much for Christmas or presents or the end and beginning of the years. The nose-crinkling scent of pine was certainly a bewitching reminder of the season; its scent forever burned into my psyche, bringing forth memories of December and January, the coldest months of the year. Memories I so dearly loved.

Memories that were quite difficult to forget.

I remembered then, as I breathed in the crisp winter air, the seven boys I met in this very neighborhood ten years ago. I was seven years old and in my third year of primary school. I was the new girl in town and I made friends with a boy named Harold, who introduced me to his group. Since then, I became another friend and I was treated like one. Not like "the new girl", like I'd expected.

Harold, Benny, Sterling, Shane, Gus, Dennis, and Duncan. My best friends. My only friends. I loved them as if they were my brothers. All except Duncan.

My Duncan and our secret love. Our situation spelled "high school" but we didn't care.

When I had first met the seven of them, my father had built a little bunkhouse in our backyard, just for us. We could play games in there all day and just have fun. It had become a meeting house for us all. If someone had a problem, we'd all meet in the bunkhouse to talk it over.

As I crunched along my path through town, I came across a poster. A missing boy about ten years old.

It was Harold. He was such a happy little boy. Chubby, with bright red hair and freckles everywhere. He made friends so easily; he was full of youth and was the essence of childhood itself. Everyone loved him and he loved everyone. I had known him for only three years and he and I were thick as thieves.

"I love you guys, you're the best!" He'd exclaimed and we'd all hugged.

Then, he disappeared.

Seven years ago, to this day, as a matter of fact. Poor Harold.

I looked away quickly and resumed walking. I would not feel for him, I promised myself. It had been seven years, I would not feel. I would become as cold for him as the ice beneath my boots.

But, then, as if to torture me, I came across another poster.

Benny's poster. The bashful young boy that would deny every compliment. A cute thing just nearly hitting puberty. He was tall and very lanky for his age. He blushed every time anyone—especially girls—ever spoke to him. He was as shy as he was adorable and had a very quiet voice. When Harold disappeared, Benny nearly stopped speaking altogether. As did the rest of us.