Part One: Chapter One

Chapter One

Snowflakes painted an image against the window. The snow. It was always the snow.

Lost in thought, Winonna reached for a memory that could only be pieced together in flashes; they wouldn’t stay clear. She stared at the glass for what seemed like hours, racking her brain over why she simply couldn’t remember.

The kettle screamed. Startled back into reality, she raced into the kitchen and pulled it off the burner.

“Shit!” She yelped. The boiling water missed her cup, spilling on her socks. She threw the sopping wet cloth onto the floor.

Winonna refilled her teacup and carried it to her desk where a tiny miniature dollhouse stood, scattered on its surface. Wood shavings surrounded the floor. Placing her cup down, she took a seat. A magnifying glass was attached to the edge of the desk. Pulling it close, she examined the details of the mouse she was crafting. Paintbrush in one hand, she delicately colored its dress. Laelia. She whispered her name, as if the wooden creature could hear.

Winonna gingerly situated the rest of the items within the dollhouse, adjusting the tiny bed, and placing wooden books on the shelf. It must be perfect.

The remaining miniature of mice were arranged in the tiny living room. Winonna finalized Laelia’s details and placed her with them.

“A family.” She whispered.

Stepping back from her work, Winonna grabbed her tea and took a sip. Observing the details of the dollhouse, a smile spread across her face. Perfect.

Her cell phone rang; a noise so horrendously obnoxious that she spilled her tea on herself.

“Damn it.” She said.

It wasn’t nearly as hot that time, but now she was wet again. Grateful it didn’t ruin her diorama, she wiped the water away.

The phone rang, it seemed louder the second time. Winonna grumbled and reached for it.  

“Hey Anthony.” She said, slightly irritable.

“Hi!” She could hear his smile on the other end of the phone. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Trying to drink my tea.” Taking another sip, she gazed into the white sky. “There’s a snowstorm over here. How are you?”

“I’m good. I had a dream about you last night.” He waited for a response but went unanswered. “Do you remember that one winter when mom and dad took us sledding? You were so afraid to go down the hill, but dad pushed you anyway.”

Something tugged at her heart, but she ignored it. “Uhh… no.”

 “You don’t remember? You face-planted into the snow and cried.” He said, trying to jog her memory, laughing through the phone.

“Not really.” Winonna said.

“How could you forget? You didn’t talk to dad for like an hour.” He said.

“Hmm.” Her hands grew clammy. She shook them. “I don’t remember that.”

He groaned. “You never remember anything.” 

The silence lingered through the phone like a ghost. It was so quiet that Winonna heard her heart beating. She sipped her drink. The slurp echoed.

“I …miss you.” He said. But his voice felt far away, as if he were reaching for the words. 

“I miss you, too.” Winonna whispered as she watched the wind blow over the snow that sat on the rooftops of each house.

Their phone conversations were the same every time. Greetings. Silence. Small talk. Silence. However, his presence comforted her. It were as if they had a template and never went off script. It was safe, predictable. But the dream—that was different.

“You said snow?” She asked. Heart pounding.

“Yeah. We went sledding. It was so much fun.” He laughed. “We were kids. You were like eight and I was maybe five.”

Snow. She thought about it, but the memory faded before it formed. Winonna walked to her desk and moved her miniature mouse family around within it. She placed them inside their individual bedrooms.

“Hello–are you there?” He inquired. 

“I’m here.” She answered.

“You’re not talking.”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Winonna said.

“Are you building your tiny homes again?” Anthony asked.

Winonna sat down, staring at the creatures, “It’s a new one.” Excitement bubbled within her. “A mouse family.”

Anthony snickered until he suddenly fell silent, like a darkness overcame his very being. He asked, “Have you talked to mom and dad lately?”

Taken aback Winonna’s shoulders fell. “No. Have you?”

“No.” He sighed.

Winonna changed the subject. “I’ll have to send you a picture, this might be my best yet.”

“Have you been outside lately?” Her brother asked.

“It’s snowing.” Winonna responded.

“Well, not now, but lately?”

Glancing at the trash that piled up near her front door, she smelled herself. She could use a shower. “Kind of.” She lied. 

Silence.

“I was wondering if you would come visit me in Ireland this summer?” His breath lingered through the phone. “Get out of your bubble for a while.”

Winonna laughed, a condescending kind of tone. His silence proved he hadn’t thought it was very funny. “Why don’t you come visit me?” She inquired.

“Winonna, you’d love it here.” Anthony ignored her question. “I want to show you the landscape, the rich history.” He mused, trying to convince her but falling short. “You can’t live your whole life locked up in your apartment.”

“I’m not locked up.” She mocked his tone. “My job is at home. It’s my office. I actually love it.” Winonna walked into her kitchen and set the kettle to boil for a second cup of tea. Peering around the place she called home—the silence made her shiver. “You’re the one who moved across the world. Where are you this time?”

“Ireland.” He answered.

She heard his smile on the other end of the phone. “Oh, right. Weren’t you just in Paris, or something?”

Anthony laughed, “A month ago. Paris was awesome, but I wanted something a little quieter.”

“Why don’t you just come home? It’s pretty quiet here.” 

He chuckled. “You just don’t get it, but that’s why I want to show you. You’ll fall in love with it.” 

Above Winonna’s desk hung one solitary photo among an otherwise barren white wall. She stared. Within the cracked golden frame was a photo of her family; the four of them. Her father held the camera crookedly, cutting part of his face out of the shot while she and Anthony smiled. Their mother looked like she was on the verge of tears that winter afternoon.

The snow—was this the day Anthony mentioned? Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the memory but couldn’t. Her heart ached. It felt as if it were breaking, yet she didn’t understand why. She wasn’t a kid anymore. At twenty-five she suddenly felt like a child.

“Winonna. Did you hear me?” Anthony asked, pulling his sister from her thoughts.

“I heard you.” She said.

Anthony spoke, “Well, think about it.”

The steam from her kettle screamed. She jumped. “Hey, I have to go. My kettle is boiling over.” Winonna cut off the line. Without saying good-bye, she sauntered into the kitchen to refill her cup. Her soul ached.

Staring at the snowflakes through the window in her kitchen, she still couldn’t remember.

Nothing.

Her mind was a blank canvas. Panic rose inside her chest. The walls shrunk and every breath felt like a chore.

The notebook. Winonna found it tucked under a pile of wood shavings. Desperate to release her fears, she wrote down everything that came to mind. Like her therapist suggested. Winonna sat back in the chair and examined the writing. But all she saw were scribbles spread across the lined paper. Her breath grew heavy. Even she couldn’t decipher the text. What a mess. Slamming the notebook shut, she shoved it forward. Her cup spilled over the binding. Tears clogged her eyes that demanded to be released. And she wept.

The winter wind blew against the windowpanes—like they were crying right along with her. Once the tears dried up, Winonna went into the bathroom to blow her nose. Reaching for the toilet paper roll, she pulled the final few squares and cleared her sorrow away. Winonna was on autopilot. Searching for another toilet roll, she opened her cabinets. Empty.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She said aloud to herself. The words echoed within the hollowness of her home. She sniffled, tearing through her entire apartment. None.

Winonna grabbed her phone and clicked through a shopping app to order a pack for delivery. To her dismay, a message on the device promptly stated that there were no shoppers in her area due to the severe weather. She groaned.

The sunless sky remained dull and lifeless, thick snowflakes floated in the air. How could she go out in this weather? Winonna felt an urge to pee because of all the tea she drank.

She had no choice.

Despite only living ten minutes on foot and two by car from the local grocery store, she hadn’t been out of her apartment in weeks. And she didn’t want to trek out into this snow. Peering at the scant toilet roll, she sighed. It was time to go.

Winonna grabbed her coat, gloves, hat, and shoes. Her brother’s words replayed in her mind. You never remember anything. They echoed as if she were stranded in a canyon and it was the only sound around her. Tucking her hair under a beanie, she wondered when her memories had disappeared. She was a sober alcoholic; drunk on the lies she kept telling herself. I’m fine. Everything is fine. A mind that had fallen into fragments; a puzzle she couldn’t solve. 

Every time she asked herself why she couldn’t remember, an empty echo found her. Nothing. She thought about something she’d recently read on the internet somewhere: they say most adults can recall memories as early as three-years-old. So why couldn’t Winonna remember anything before the age of 10? The last memory she recalled was in her bedroom. Alone. A pink dollhouse full of plastic toys scattered on the floor. She pretended. And she hadn’t stopped since.  

Winonna faced her front door. Trash bag in one hand and her keys in the other. Cold air filtered through the apartment. An exhale of white air left her body. Winonna stepped beyond the door frame and into the wintry abyss. Hesitant, she turned back. The door invited her inside, but she took a deep breath and stepped into the white snow.

Winonna found her vehicle trapped under a blanket of snow. She drove an old Toyota. And for whatever reason, it was rear-wheel drive—the only one on the planet you would find in the state of Colorado. One would never drive it in snow, but Winonna hardly ever drove. A new car wasn’t a priority. However, tonight, she kicked herself for such a stupid decision.

Truthfully, Winonna hated driving. And almost never did, especially when it snowed.

The snow piled and piled. The powdery dust blew into her face, pinching her features, the cold reminded her of something. She saw it. A flash. It was so cold. Snow. But as soon as it appeared—it disappeared. Winonna groaned. A shiver shot through her body.

Despite the hour, the sky held a white hue, making it unclear to know what time of day it was. The snow was never-ending. The white powder was so heavy, she couldn’t clear the tires and knew it wasn’t worth so much effort. She stood. A whispering wind weaved through the alley where her car remained. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Winonna cursed under her breath and walked on. 

Her face hurt. The frozen air stabbed it like tiny needles puncturing her skin. Frost particles gathered on her eyebrows, but Winonna kept moving forward. A hill divided her apartment from the grocery store. She exhaled when she saw the rooftop shimmer from the snowflakes.

Entering through automatic double doors, the wind followed her inside. Everything looked different. When was the last time that she’d been there? It took her longer than she anticipated to find the toilet paper, and once she did, it was sparse. Lugging the toilet paper in her arms, she approached the checkout lines.

Only one register was open, while the rest were self-checkout. An eager cashier stood at the edge of the lonely lane, ready to speak with another human. The woman flashed her a smile, but Winonna turned away and rushed to use the self-checkout. It was full.

The toothy cashier pointed at her register. “I can take you over here.”

Winonna looked at the unmoving line ahead of her. Cursing under her breath, she pulled the toilet paper higher and greeted the woman at the front of the register.

“Staying warm tonight?” The cashier smiled, bundled under a hot pink beanie and scarf. Winonna thought the color was far too youthful for her age.

“Yeah.” Winonna said.

“My kids are picking me up in ten minutes. We’re having a roast tonight and I’m just salivating thinking about it.”

Never meeting the woman’s eyes, Winonna asked, “Your kids are coming to get you?”

“Of course.” She smiled.

“That’s nice.” Winonna watched the cashier’s motions but never looked up.

“Are you with your family on this snowy night?”

“No.” Winonna said sharply.

The cashier gave a warm smile and handed her the receipt. “Have a great night.” She said.

The white sky began to gray, and the standing lights cast a glow on a lonely frail tree outside of the parking lot. It stood tall, battered by the winter. The scant tree held onto two leaves that had rotted brown. Winonna knew that if she reached for them, they would surely crumble between her fingertips. How had they survived this harsh winter for so long?

Towing the toilet paper close to her chest, she was at the edge of the parking lot when a faint meow flew around her. She stopped. The temperature dropped, and the bitter winter haunted the air like a ghost, causing a chill to shoot into her bones. It was getting darker when a light flurry brought a meow. Time froze like ice on black pavement.

“Meeew.” The cry echoed, but it was so small that it vanished into the frost. Inching towards the sound, the giant snowflakes transformed into flurries that fluttered from the sky. 

“MEEW.” The creature screamed. Winonna couldn’t find the source until the air was nearly unbearable. Amidst the growing darkness, the streetlamps lit a path. Winonna might have missed the animal until it let out one last “meeeew.” A kitten. It almost melted into the snow; its white fur was wet and clumpy. That final cry was all it could muster until it finally gave up and collapsed.

Winonna’s knees imprinted the snow as she reached for the cat. Its heart raced between her fingertips. Alive. She lifted the kitten’s limp body and stuffed it into her coat. Winonna searched for a nearby owner, but there was no one in sight. Peeking into her coat, it didn’t have a collar. No one was coming to its rescue. They were alone. 

Chapter Two Coming Soon…