Snow (standard:humor, 1316 words)
Author: kendall thomas	Added: Nov 10 2002	Views/Reads: 3690/2213	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Tale of irony.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“That's how your going to die, Freddy,” she said, giving him that sweet
smile again, as if merely exchanging a pleasantry. 

This got Freddy's interest and a rather intense conversation ensued--at
least on Freddy's part.  The sum of which was that, no matter what he, 
Freddy P. Wilson, would do, he was going to die on January the 19th in 
a snow storm, and that was only two days hence. 

He hadn't told her his name, and yet she knew it without asking, and she
seemed to know a lot of other things about him, as well:  the drinking, 
the firings, the misdemeanor convictions.  Things that she couldn't 
possibly have known -- but did, and that begin to worry him.    For she 
seemed pretty certain about the time of his demise and could not be 
budged from her distressing forecast. 

“No, my dear,” she said, shaking her round, little head, “I'm afraid
you've had the course.  Better wrap things up if you have any loose 
ends lying about and kiss it all goodbye.” 

“But it's not possible,” Freddy exclaimed, half angrily, half in
disbelief, and another half  thrown in for fear--for there was no 
shaking  her calm certainty. 

“I'm too young to die,” he whimpered. 

Zengra shrugged. 

“Would you like some more coffee, dear?” she asked. 

~ 

That night as Freddy sat alone in his apartment watching TV the
weatherman was predicting a severe snow storm for January the 19th.  
Freddy couldn't fully believe the fortune teller's prophecy, but when 
it is one's life, why take chances? 

Freddy booked a flight to the small island of Saba and was soon sipping
frozen daiquiris on a snow white beach underneath a warm, golden sun. 

Nothing could happen to him here, he assured himself as he watched
pretty young women go by in their bikinis.  Nothing. 

He was safe here.  A place where it never snowed.  How could he die in
snow if there was no snow?  He couldn't.  It was impossible.  He 
laughed.  He was happy.  A pretty girl smiled at him as she strolled 
by, hips swinging.  He was in hog Heaven.  He, Freddy P. Wilson, had a 
handle on things.  The 19th was gonna be his day to boogie.  For once 
in his life he was no longer gonna be Freddy the Loser. 

That night as the 18th became the 19th, Freddy took a stroll along the
beach, and as he glanced up he noticed a bright light in the sky, 
brighter than all the other stars, and it seemed to be approaching, 
growing larger. 

How could this be, he wondered? What could it be?   Suddenly, as he
continued to watch, it became huge, lighting up the whole sky.  He 
heard women shriek from the hotel patio.  Then the light shot across 
the sky in a brilliant arc and disappeared over the horizon.  Moments 
later a blinding light rose up from the earth lighting the whole curve 
of the ocean.  Then roiling clouds darker than the black of night 
blocked out the stars and the moon. 

The warm sea breeze suddenly chilled him as if a freezer door had been
opened.  The temperature began to drop.  In the light from the hotel he 
could see specks dropping from the sky.  They were cool against his 
skin.  Then he realized what they were.  Snowflakes.  Snow.  It was 
snowing.  Then the hotel lights flickered and went out.  The lights 
went out everywhere.  And in an instant the beach and Freddy were 
buried in a cold embrace. 

~ 

The next day the media were a buzz with reports about the freakish
impact of a small ice comet near the tiny island of Saba which, 
fortunately, had caused little damage.  There had been one bizarre 
fatality, though, the reports said:  an, as yet, unidentified man found 
frozen to death on a beach. 

Back in the city where Freddy had lived, the 19th  turned out to be an
unseasonably warm, sunny day without a hint of clouds. 

fin 


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