Where Leaves and Snow Don’t Fall Part 3

This is part 3 of 4, you can find the other parts of this story here. *** The cold stung his face, a sign he was awake and in motion. The streets felt deserted. He

This is part 3 of 4, you can find the other parts of this story here.


The cold stung his face, a sign he was awake and in motion. The streets felt deserted. He pretended the vapor he breathed out was flames as he aimlessly wandered. The trees bent and swayed in the gusts of wind. Old wooden buildings creaked under the pressure of time and nature. This isolation from his mother and sister felt necessary.

Nate found himself at the border of his hometown. There was a clear border. Where he stood there was no snow, and a few steps ahead there was a thick covering. He looked at his feet and noticed there wasn’t even a faint trace of snow, no slush, no small patches. Just concrete. Beyond the border was pure white as far as the eye could see.

He heaved, but only a string of saliva fell from his lips. A drop leaked to the ground and was the only moisture on the gray concrete. Feet appeared in the snow ahead.

They left no prints.

“You should not be in the cold,” said an all too familiar voice. It was the same one he had heard in the woods.

Then he felt pressure. It was the pressure of hands. Though gentle, it went through him. He felt the hands move from his shoulders to his face and push upward.

Black eyes gazed into his own. The milky-white face smiled. The being caressed his lips with a cold thumb.

He blinked and found a moment of control. Nate launched himself backward and rolled into the street. The thing hovered above the snow. His head throbbed, and his vision blurred for a moment. It was closer, within a few steps. He scurried on his hands and knees, then to his feet. No matter how much he desired to scream, to draw attention to himself, no sound passed his lips.

Nate turned the corner, down an alley, hung a tight right, and he ran to the tallest building, a church. In his frazzled grey matter, that was the only safe place from the ghost.

“Come back home, Nate,” its voice said. The phantasm was distant but still too close. It laughed.

His head snapped upward toward the steeple.

The thing hovered with its arms outstretched above.

Nate turned to run, but the revving of an engine shocked him. The grill of a jeep approached quickly. His mother was behind the wheel. Everything spun and blurred around him, his limbs flung wildly, smacking against the car roof. His short trip ended on the cold concrete of the road.


            Pain ripped through him, but movement hurt even more. Though blurry, he could make out white walls, a white ceiling, and the moving blades of a fan. Strangely, the pain dulled a bit. Adrenaline, he managed the think. Maybe it was the terror. His vision focused, and the details of his room came to view.

The pain dulled, and a cold numbness set in.

Nate forced himself to stand, but he leaned against the end table by his bed. No, he repeated in his head, silently screaming. Nausea set in again.

All he could think of was getting out of his room. Something wanted him back here, and his mother had assisted it. He slammed his door open but tripped and landed in the hallway. A cacophony assailed his ears and small black dots buzzed around him, crashing into him. The flies were so thick, his hand reached up to protect his mouth and nose, whilst his other swatted them away. The sound of the flies was greatest to his right.

Mary, his sister, floated in the hall, arms outstretched, flies clung to her naked body. They were heaviest by her groin and buzzed out of her mouth.

“Our child will be beautiful, brother.” The voice seemed to come from all around him. “You will soon understand what love is, Nathan.”

The swarm thickened into a solid mass and lifted him off the floor.

Mary gazed at him with a joyful expression and held his face in her hands. “This is love.”

Her thumbs entered his mouth, forcing it open. Hers opened and a stream of flies flew deeper inside of him. Then came darkness and a choir of flies.

To Be Continued…

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