Otherworld

Lights in the snow

Chapter 1 Lights in the snow

Snow still blanketed the ground, even though it was well into April. The radio said we could expect another few inches to fall overnight, but it should be the last of the winter storms for the season. Hopefully, that was true. I was already sick and tired of the snow. Like many others in Huron county, I wished for nothing more than the short Michigan summer to arrive and save me from the bleakness of chilly grey skies.

I groaned. There was nothing to do, in my opinion, but I didn't bother saying so out loud and risk my mother coming up with a list full of chores. There was nothing worse than scrubbing my fingers to the bone as I needlessly washed the already clean baseboards of the entire house. My mother was the type of woman who would clean them twice a week without fail. If she wanted to do it, then she could go right on ahead.

Well, waiting like this sucked the big one. I splayed out over the old couch in the den. My feet were resting on the top of it and against the wall, and I was upsidedown as I moped. It's not like I could go anywhere. My mother revoked my use of her car earlier that week. I managed to miss the driveway and drove straight into one of the deep country farming ditches that lined nearly every road in the county a few days prior. And even if she hadn't, my father had the only other working vehicle with him. He'd gone to my uncle's place down in Detroit that morning. I wished he would have taken me with him.

With a huff, I sat up straight and fixed the mop of red hair to rest behind my ears. My little brother sat on the floor playing with some old toy cars, making engine noises. I was too old to play with those sorts of things, but it wouldn't have hurt for him to ask me to join him. I didn't say no all the time. But he was currently ignoring me. That's what I got for filling his boots with snow yesterday. The kid could hold a grudge like nobody's business.

Instead of that, I stalked my way to my bedroom despite how cold it was. My mother said propane was too expensive to heat the upstairs, so she refused to turn the thermostat up. Whatever. I could deal with it if that meant I got to be in my own space.

My room wasn't all that big, but it was mine. It was adorned in pastel blues and light greens, from the walls down to the quilted comforter my mother sewed for me last Spring. The small four-poster bed was tucked against the wall and between the rooms two large windows. Next to that, there was an old wardrobe that served as a closet. This house didn't have very many. A short dresser also acted as a bookshelf and a catch-all near the door. It was tidy and comfortable.

Opening up the bottom drawer of my dresser, I dug around for some paper and a spare pencil before hopping in my bed. Drawing should save me from my current boredom. I was pretty decent at that. There was this description of some type of fairy in one of my favorite books I wanted to try and sketch out, anyway. My room attested to my love of the fair folk. I smothered the walls with elves and other fantastical creatures.

I was in the middle of trying to draw an eye when my mother called up from the bottom of the steps. "Gwen, come set the table for dinner. It will be ready soon."

In true teenage-girl fashion, I rolled my hazel colored eyes. Why couldn't she ask Derrik to do it? It's not like he didn't have hands. He was almost eleven now. She should stop coddling him. I tossed my pencil down so hard out of irritation it flung to the floor. "Yeah, Mom. Be right there." I yelled back, getting off of the warm spot on my bed to retrieve what I dropped.

I would have gone down right away, but when I stood back up, my eye caught something strange out in one of the fields. What was that? I wiped the condensation off the windowpane and pressed my face against the glass to get a better look. Close to the house, three oddly colored lights danced around above the snow. They reminded me of glowsticks, though they were much brighter, and they seemed to pulse.

Really, I must have been dreaming or something. The desire to go and find out what was out there rose up within me. I had never seen that sort of thing in my life. When I say we lived out in the boonies, I meant it. The nearest house from us was two miles up the road. Plus, this time of year, nobody worked the fields since the ground was nearly frozen solid. All of the usual suspects, like neighbors or a tiller, were quickly brushed off since there was no way that could have been possible. So then, I was left without an explanation that made sense.

Without thinking, I flung myself down the steps and out into the snow in just my socks. Even though I wasn't dressed for the weather, I didn't care. The lights were still there, waiting for me like they knew I would come and greet them. The crunch of frozen earth under my feet echoed around me, even though I was trying not to make too much noise. I feared I was going to scare it away. But then again, I couldn't seem to get closer to whatever it was.

The cold did not seem to phase me, though my breath left long trails in the twilight. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I headed down the old tractor path that rounded the barn. I was so enamored with the streeks of energy that I forgot about where I was.

There was a beautiful sound coming from the lights. Soft and sad, almost like a mourner's lullaby. The music slowly morphed into a symphony of voices. If not for the rhythmic drumming tone of them, I would have believed angels made it. My pace slowed, and I reached out towards them. I was mesmerized. As they hummed, it almost sounded like they were whispering my name to me.

A fierce northerly wind ripped at my blouse, swirling around me as though it was trying to encourage me to hurry through the deep snow towards adventure. Tight blue jeans clung to my legs as I trudged through the drifts, acting like icy wraps as they quickly soaked through and chilled me to my core.

The temperature hovered around the low thirties but threatened to fall with the rest of the sun. It wasn't even that late yet. Only a half-past five, but it seemed so much later. I didn't make it too far before I was scolded, effectively snapping me back to reality.

"Gwen! Get your butt back in this house before you freeze to death. I mean now, Gwendolyn Anne." My mother snapped at me from the front porch of our farmhouse. "Honestly… What on God's green earth has gotten into you? Go do what I asked you right this very minute." I was way too old to be treated like I was three.

As soon as I heard my mother's voice, the lights faded away into nothing. I scowled as I turned on my heel and stormed back up towards the house. My mom crossed her arms as I passed her. "Take off those socks. I will not have you tracking mud all over my clean house, missy." I begrudgingly complied.

                                                                        *

Later that night, I sat on the sill of my bedroom window. "What do you expect you're gonna see, Gwen?" I asked myself. Maybe I hoped for the lights to return so that I could chase after them again. But they didn't come. I should have taken a better look around when I had the chance to. The snow was falling in chunky flakes now. No doubt, any trace of footprints left would have either been buried by the fresh powder or swept away by the breeze coming in off the lake. Seriously? I had the worst luck lately.

I rose when I got too cold, skirting over to my bed as quickly as I could to get under the covers. Even though my mother said I could sleep downstairs near the heater like I did almost all winter, I didn't want to. It was chilly, sure. But it was warmer than it had been for a while. I missed my own comfortable bed. With enough blankets piled on top, I would be perfectly cozy. 'Warmth then weight' as my grandmother would always say.

Within the warm spot I made between the sheets and the fuzziest throw I could find, I tossed onto one of my sides. "There is nothing out there to worry about. You imagined things. That's what happens when you get bored. How long have you lived here? Seven. No, eight years. Never saw anything like that here before. And then you got yourself in trouble." I scolded myself as I closed my eyes.

Hours and hours passed, but I was still awake. Subconsciously, I must have wanted something paranormal to happen. Of course, nothing did. The uneventful night confirmed it. I must have been bonkers.