Storytime: In the Attic (Part 3)

​The following will be a multi-part series from a book of short stories I wrote a long time ago. I shall record these stories exactly as they are written with no editing.

Many of the stories are of true events with some embellishments and a bit of creative license. All names will be changed to protect the privacy of the individuals mentioned.

Without further ado, let's adventure into my 16-year-old self via our book pensieve. Here is In the Attic.

White Wall

Before me is a wall of white, a swirling mass of tiny snowflakes tousled wildly by the wind. "Walk backwards and less snow will blow into your clothes!" my mother shouts. I can barely hear her voice as the fierce storm swallows it. Slowly I turn around, grinning in glee as the winds claw at my six-year-old body. It howls in rage in the attempt to blow me sideways. I do not know where we are heading, but to me, experiencing the terrible snowstorm for myself is exciting enough.

I clench my hands into little fists as we plough through the snow; I am like an ant trying to climb uphill with a boulder on my back, while a nasty brat blows a hairdryer right in my face. However, everything is at least a hundred times colder and I cannot see the brat or the boulder. My mother and I trudge down the street. "I wish I had a ski mask," I whine.

"What? Couldn't hear you!" she shouts.

"I said: I wish I had a ski mask!"

"What?"

"I. WISH. I. HAD. A. SKI. MASK!"

"Oh! Maybe we'll get you one some other time!"

"What?"

"Maybe later!"

"What!"

"Pardon?"

"Oh never mind."

"I'm sorry I couldn't hear you!"

"Never mind!"

"WHAT?"

"FORGET IT!" I shout at the top of my lungs. We both laugh at out own confusion as we turn towards home. I strip off my gloves, jacket, hat, scarf, boots--and the list goes on--and toss the lot into the dryer. My mother fixes me a mug of hot chocolate with those giant marshmallows bobbing around like buoys in the ocean. Nathan totters around the house, partially listening and mostly fascinated with every object in existence.

Gradually, the world beyond out house grows dark. Before I know it, my mother orders me to go to bed. I stare blissfully at the ceiling, recounting the adventure in my head millions of times. Drifting of to sleep, I feel like an invincible explorer who went to the most remote regions of the earth and came back alive enough to tell the tale.

---

And that was the blizzard of 1993. We got two feet of snow in under 24 hours. School was canceled for a week, and much merriment was had. I ended up making a snowball the size of my brother, and it didn't melt until July.

I thank you for your time. Adiamas.