Alaska, a short story

Here is a short story I wrote late one night while listening to one of my favorite Tori Amos songs. The song always made me feel kind of sad and in denial, but nothing I could ever put my finger on. Until this popped out. Enjoy.


I stared at the paper for minutes, not fully prepared for what I was reading. It could have been hours. It certainly felt like it. When I read the words in front of me, it was as if time stopped and there was nothing in existence save for myself and those ugly words before me. Slowly, though, time began again. The clock ticked again. The fire crackled. And I crumpled the paper in my hand and flung it angrily across the room. It bounced harmlessly off of the wall and landed softly near the television. It wasn’t the paper’s fault. It wasn’t responsible for the foul message it carried. But the rage engulfed me and I felt I had to lash out. Killing the messenger, I suppose.

It wasn’t fair.

I’d been so careful. Led my life with my grand plan in mind and never deviating from it because to do so might jeopardize my final goal. Granted, I didn’t really know what that was yet, but that didn’t keep me from wanting to make sure I didn’t do something stupid and screw it up.
I’d always been careful for the same reason. Wasn’t that what everyone told you when you were growing up? You have to think about your future. Don’t live for right now. Think about what things will be like in ten years. Do you really want to have to live with the repercussions of something you did now, then?

Well, I bought it. No, I wouldn’t want to live with those repercussions. I’d do things the right way and everything would turn out okay for me. Better than okay. I’d win life’s lottery and get everything I wanted. Sort of the grand prize for doing what I was told.

What a crock!

I’d done everything I was supposed to. I’d planned so carefully and cautiously for my future, but now my future was gone. Stolen in a heartbeat by some stupid test that said I was going to die. I was only thirty. Fuck.

I was ready to go back and do it all again, to throw caution to the wind and perhaps get a second chance at the life I had never bothered to lead. I knew that wouldn’t work though. It’s amazing how quickly one can move from one emotion to the next when confronted by the inevitable. Of course we’re all going to die. I just hadn’t planned on doing it so soon.

I sighed and ran my shaking hand through my hair. Behind me, I heard the thump of the burning wood shifting inside the woodstove. I turned to look at it, the heat causing my skin to tighten across my face. I took a step toward it and held out my hand. It hovered only a few inches above the surface of the stove and I had to snatch it away quickly to avoid a burn. Briefly, I considered pressing my palm against the dark, scarred surface of the stove. To feel my flesh burn. To experience something not many others had. To do something different. Then I thought about how it would feel to yank my injured hand away and pull the injured skin from my hand. The thought of that prompted me to change my mind.

Instead I walked to the door and placed my forehead against the cold glass. Looking out, I could see that it was snowing again. It had warmed up again. The thermometer read minus twenty and that was warm enough for snow. It fell silently in large, fat flakes. No wind here to blow it off course. It fell straight, from cloud to ground, with nothing to impede its course. The way my life was supposed to be. Until today.

Then, as I watched the flakes drift slowly to the ground, something occurred to me. I opened the door and felt the bitter cold sting my face, causing an instant burning sensation in my cheeks. I stepped out onto the snow-packed patio and my bare feet complained instantly about the cold. I wiggled my toes in the snow, heard the door close behind me and the lock click. I’d stepped through. It was too late to go back now, even if I’d wanted to.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the frozen air and smelling the scent of the snow. Around me stood the thick growth of trees, mostly birch and aspen, that shielded me from the rest of the world. I turned my face toward the dark sky, only partially clouded, despite the snowfall. To the north, the aurora danced in the distance, a subtle and changing mixture of reds and greens, moving like a sine wave across the sky. It was like a private light show just for me. The full moon hung low on the horizon, its reflected light causing the snow to sparkle. My teeth began to chatter. In the woods, something moved.

I could do it, I thought. I could be free. Maybe this was what I needed.

I looked at the woods. They weren’t far. I bet I could make it.
With one final glance behind me, I tore off my clothes, jumped into the powdery snow and ran for the trees.