November/December 2002

Hannah leapt out of the truck, hardly able to restrain herself. Snow had come, winter had come! And here she was, about to spend a full afternoon cross-country skiing with Grandpa; the first time since last March when they had been forced to leave early due to the rapid melting of the snow. Around the parking lot, the deep woods looked inviting. Hannah followed the trail with her eyes until the first bend, and, wondering what secrets the rest of it held, she felt another surge of joy inside and wanted to sing, though she didn’t dare break the delicious silence that surrounded her. “Hannah,” chuckled Grandpa’s voice from behind, startling her and breaking the peaceful spell, “don’t just stand there and dream away, but come wax those skis. It’s going to be suppertime before we get skiing!” Hannah tore her hungry eyes off the trail and did as she was bid. The sound and smell of the sticky wax as she applied it made her sigh with happiness, causing Grandpa to chuckle again. Each of the numerous adventures in the woods which Hannah had experienced and gained knowledge from came back to her as she scraped a thick coating onto the bottom of her skis. When both pairs of skis were waxed, and the picnic they had prepared was divided equally between Hannah and Grandpa, they set off down the trail. Hannah was in the lead, her skis pushing and gliding rhythmically down the shining trail as the sun’s bright rays bounced off it. Hannah felt so lighthearted she was sure she could do the same. But the forest was peacefully quiet, and despite her gaiety Hannah felt strangely like an intruder, even though her skis made only a soft, soothing “ssssk, ssssk” as she skied along. She wished she could be a part of the forest rather than a visitor in it. She wondered if the animals of the woods were gaping out from the shadows, awed at these brightly clothed creatures who traveled the paths. She wished she could be a part of the forest rather than a visitor in it “Darn!” exclaimed Grandpa suddenly. “Snow is getting into my boots—I forgot to put on my gaiters!” Hannah laughed at him for being so foolish and flipped her long, dirty-blond hair over her shoulder as she stopped and turned to look at him. “Grandpa,” she said, “we’ve been skiing every year for seven years and you forget your gaiters of all things. How did that happen? Gaiters are a waterproof garment used to stop snow from entering the ski boot in cross-country skiing. Hannah was incredulous, because Grandpa was an expert skier, and he had taught her everything she knew about skiing. “I just forgot, honey,” he said, grinning with his granddaughter over his stupidity. “I’ll go back. I’ll only be a minute, so you can go on, but when you reach the fork take the usual route.” He turned and headed for the parking lot, and Hannah kept going, still smiling to herself. Hannah Louise Richard had been born the youngest in a large, happy family, with her mother, father, and five siblings. But shortly after her birth, Mr. and Mrs. Richard had decided that taking care of Hannah’s two-year-old twin sisters and her, plus the other three, was too much for them, and she had been sent to live with Grandma and Grandpa until they could cope with the situation and have her home. The time had come, but little Hannah had already accepted her grandparents as her guardians and wouldn’t be moved from them, so with them she had stayed. One of the hobbies the three had always shared was cross-country skiing, and they had always done it together until two years ago when Grandma had died. Now it was something that Hannah and Grandpa did together. Hannah had reached the fork, so she took the left turn unhesitantly (it had always been the way she and Grandpa had gone). The trail was a loop, so it would come right back to the fork. She began to sing softly to herself, enjoying being alone in her favorite place, and the time slipped softly by while Hannah, carried away in her own contentment, forgot about Grandpa until half an hour later when she sat down to wait for him. She remained there for ten minutes, and he still didn’t show up. She had expected him to be close behind, but obviously he wasn’t. On these trails it was easy to be close behind but out of sight as there were many small hills, twists and turns in the path. Hannah supposed he had forgotten how to put on his gaiters, and suppressed a giggle at the absurd thought. Then she started on the gorp which she was carrying in her daypack; she was famished after lots of skiing and saw it as a way to pass the time she spent waiting for Grandpa. But when he still didn’t come, she continued on without him. As she began to ski again, Hannah felt a growing triumph inside of her. She was alone in the forest and having a splendid adventure. She didn’t know where Grandpa was, but she knew he’d be OK, however far behind he had become. Although his age was going on seventy, he was in good shape and looked young enough to be her father, and she knew nothing could have harmed him. Another half hour ticked by, as Hannah skied through the still forest, the moss- and lichen-covered deciduous trees bare but possessing a certain gentle beauty despite their lack of summer greenness. She was still enjoying herself immensely when she heard the coyotes. Their high-pitched yowling echoed through the forest and Hannah halted. They sounded very nearby, and she knew it was a whole pack. She also knew they probably wouldn’t hurt her (it was rare for them to carry off even a small child), but their wild, eerie cries

My hand felt like ice against the cold, hard metal doorknob on this hostile, windy crisp day. As I opened the door, I was greeted by a cold gust of wind that stung my face like a thousand bee stings. This cold does not bother me, but instead provides me with a queer comfort. I cannot explain this, just like you can’t explain how the universe came to be. As I took another long step outside, wind pounded upon my jacket, sending cold ripples through it like ocean waves. Shivering, I smiled. I knew that I was basically alone in the town, that all the other people were hiding in the houses. This gave me comfort, knowing that I had the streets to myself, and the only one I had to share them with was the wind. Wind continued to stampede towards me, tackling me backwards like an angry dog protecting his bone. It was as if he wanted the streets all to himself as well. My shoes made a crunching sound against the damp grass like a sponge. Dead leaves swirled around me, pushed by cruel gusts of wind in a tornado-like dance that broke the sudden silence. The icy wind howled and roared at me as I pushed onward into this dead world slowly and carefully. The wind was the only thing making noise besides the dark, large crows squawking, as if pleading for help, in the air beside the gray clouds. Not a soul could be seen outside on a cold, rainy day like this one As I scanned my desolate surroundings, which this morning had been my warm, sunny street, bare trees loomed over me like dark, misty mountains; cold, menacing. The edges of the trees appeared blurry, but smooth and wide. These trees made large shadows on the bare street, making the gloomy scene look even gloomier. Suddenly, I felt terribly alone and tiny in the world; not a soul could be seen outside on a cold, rainy day like this one. Puddles began to form as rain pounded upon my hood, which was knocked over by the unexpected gusts of wind. I risked a glance upwards at the dark clouds, but expanding tree branches blocked my view far above me. The dead branches looked like mysterious hands stretching on forever as if pleading for help upon the angry sky. Pearls of rain trickled down my cheek and danced down my shirt, tickling me while making me shiver. The rain came down harder, harder until it splattered upon the empty streets that loomed around me. The dim sun played hide-and-seek behind the clouds, darkening and lightening the scene unexpectedly. The leaves no longer danced; they flew around frantically while chased by the angry, howling wind. My face stung and seemed to be splitting open by the cold. I stuffed my hands in my warm pockets, but rain continued to splatter upon them. Lightning flashed, lighting up the scene for an instant, but then the world became dark again. The rain continued to shoot downward, making me have to blink constantly to prevent my eyes from becoming soaked. Deciding that I had fought the cold enough, I gave up and retreated inside my warm, safe, cozy home, leaving the wind to own the streets as I had. Wind chased me there, but I did not let it inside by closing the door firmly. I smiled, but I didn’t know why. It’s just one of those things that you can’t explain. Just like desolation. Andrew Fine, 11Ridgewood, New Jersey Jackson Harris, 11Tampa, Florida