The Snow by Flint Maxwell EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Flint Maxwell
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Genre: U.S. Horror Fiction, Horror Suspense, Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
ON A SCORCHING HOT JULY AFTERNOON, a lone snowflake fell
from the summer sky.
It danced toward my car, landed on the windshield, and melted a second or
two later, leaving a tiny stream of water to zigzag down the glass. I was
looking right at it, but its strangeness didn’t register until much later, after
things went bad.
Yes, this is when it began, the bad things, but before I get into that, I think I
should get the introductions out of the way. My name is Grady Hill, I’m
almost thirty, and I live—well, lived—in Northeast Ohio. Once upon a time, I
worked as a firefighter. I don’t anymore. Yep, that’s me.
If you don’t know already, the world has ended, and it all started with that
lone snowflake. Even if I had been paying attention when it fell, what would
I have thought of it? I don’t know; it’s hard to say. Northeast Ohio is home to
all sorts of odd weather. Besides, one snowflake? But I can tell you I
wouldn’t have believed my eyes, that I’d make all sorts of excuses about
what it actually was. Maybe a drop of rain or a splash from a nearby car’s
windshield wiper fluid.
Still, I’m not sure because as it happened, my mind was elsewhere. I was
thinking about the fire, the smoke, and the dead boy. How once the chaos
settled, all that was left of him was a blackened husk that they pulled from
the apartment building’s smoldering remains. These thoughts weren’t
anything new around this time. They haunted me almost constantly. As I sat
at the red light before the highway on-ramp, that first snowflake now long
gone, I saw the flames and heard the boy’s screams. I felt the smoke stinging
my eyes, and strangling my throat.
“Get a move on, dumbass!” someone yelled from behind. That brought me
back to the present.
I hung an apologetic hand out the window, glancing at him in the rearview
mirror. Some heavyset fella in an American flag tank top, sitting on a Harley.
Even though I hit the gas and flipped my turn signal on, I guess I wasn’t
moving fast enough because he zoomed right past me, shouting another
loving expletive I didn’t fully hear over the roar of his motorcycle. Anyway, I
gave him the middle finger, but he was already tearing up the road. A wise
person once said you can’t win ‘em all. That person was right, but still, that’s
a damn shame.
I eased on up the ramp and merged with the flow of weekend traffic. There
was a good amount of it, too. The long July 4
th weekend meant most people
were off of work that Friday, and a lot of them were probably doing what I
was doing, which was heading for greener pastures. I was going to Prism
Lake, about three hours south of where I lived and worked.
It was a yearly
occasion for a couple of my buddies and me. We’d been going since we were
kids. Stone’s dad used to take us every summer, until the three of us
discovered girls, that is. That’d be around our freshman year of high school.
Age fourteen or fifteen. After that, we went only once or twice.
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