Miracle

Silent Night

The glow of the headlights turned the snowstorm into shooting-star-like projectiles, blocking the vision of anyone attempting to drive up the mountain to Broker's Peak. Emma adjusted the dial on the car radio, trying to catch one of the two radio stations that came in on the mountain. The grating sound of Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas filled the car, mingling with the hiss of snowflakes slicing into the windshield. Emma frowned, but leaves the radio on. Of course the only two stations in town would both be blasting holiday nonsense.

Her breath puffed in the chilly, unheated air of the inside of her car as she squinted into the swirling snowflakes, their hypnotic dance a constant threat to her focus. The world outside was a halo of the too-bright headlights reflecting off of the precipitation. The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers struggled to keep pace with the snow that thickened with every passing mile.

Emma glanced at the dashboard clock, her fingers clutching the wheel with white knuckles: 9:45PM. She gripped harder and tried to twist the wheel between her hands, skin stinging. This is ridiculous. It never snowed this much in November, and she should have already been in Broker's Peak hours ago. Her teeth chattered as she huddled further into the woolen jacket she'd dragged out of the back of her closet for just this excursion. She fiddled with the heater knobs in hopes that the heat had somehow fixed itself since she last tried it.

"Just a little farther," she whispered to herself, her words barely audible over the jingling bells on the radio and the sound of the road around her. Her voice broke a little as she spoke, tears she wouldn't let slide down her face clogging her throat. "Just four more miles."

But four miles turned into a million in the snow. Emma's car inched over the icy road; her sleek little red sports car was never designed for these types of situations. She was much more comfortable cruising the slick asphalt of L.A, as was her owner. But Emma could never, would never, go back there. That asshole Rick made sure she'd never be able to step foot in that town ever again.

Not that she wanted to. Emma never wanted to see Rick's stupid face ever again; in fact, she didn't want to even think about him.

It's a shame that our brains don't always listen to what we want.

Emma continued her slow crawl up the Peak, tears blurring her eyes. She cranked the stereo a little higher, blasting some awful remake of We Wish You a Merry Christmas by some one-hit wonder, and she sangs along at the top of her voice. Trees huddled over the road as if in search of whatever warmth her headlights might provide, their branches fat with quickly piling snow.

As Emma turned right at the intersection between Miller's Way and Prospector Street, her tires protested at having to grip the icy road. She sighed as one of her tires spins, unable to get its teeth into the road. Pulling her foot off the gas, she tried again, pressing the pedal as hard as she dared. Emma fumed in frustration as the tire spun again; throwing the car into reverse, she slammed on the gas again, tears spilling down her cheeks as she attempted to get herself out of the little rut of snow her tires had formed.

Pushing the clutch in, she slammed the gas forward one more time, her teeth slamming into one another in the cold as tension built in her jaw. Finally, both tires managed to grip something, and her little car flew forward, sliding across the road like it was on ice skates. And then-

Crash.

The front end of her little, sporty red car suddenly slid into the ditch on the far side of the road. It dove down the embankment at a nearly 90-degree angle. Emma screamed as she careened forward in her seat, the seat belt biting into her shoulder as her head slammed against the steering wheel.

And then there was nothing.