This story is a pared-down, heavily edited version of the intro to my NaNoWriMo effort from 2006. I stumbled across it on my hard drive the other day and decided on a whim to turn it into a Friday Flash story.

Tune in next week for a story that I think is going to involve a mad scientist!

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Arrival

Tara pulls her rental Toyota onto the shoulder of the highway, puts it in park and massages her temples. She isn't sure if her headache is from her last argument with her mother before leaving for the airport, or from dumping her body into a radically different barometric pressure.

She's about five kilometers south of the gas station where she'd refueled and tried to extract directions from the the francophone attendant using her limited, and broken, high school French.

"You wouldn't pay $50 extra for a GPS receiver," she says aloud, in what she worries is her mom's voice, "I bet that guy spoke English. It was probably a small town way of jerking me around."

She shivers, reaching for the heat control before remembering she already has it at max. Tara had done her research before flying to Manitoba in the dead of winter. She knew her Toronto winter coat wasn't going to cut it and had bought a down-filled parka from Mountain Equipment Co-op that makes her look like the Michelin Man, only vibrant blue. On her feet is a pair of boots rated down to -50 celsius (it came with an instruction booklet on sock selection) and she is wearing mittens for the first time since she was seven years old. None of that preparation had helped in that first moment when she stepped out from term airport terminal in Winnipeg and into the open air. For a moment, she thought she couldn't breath and it took a few panicky, rasping gasps to get herself under control. She'd had an image of all the cilia along her windpipe curling up in the frozen air, breaking off and tumbling down her windpipe.

"You left the map book in the trunk, didn't you?" she asks herself.

Her grandfather's lawyer had couriered directions, along with a set keys for her grandfather's house. She'd apparently visited once when she was three or four but Tara had no recollection of this and her parents had taken no pictures.

She takes a deep breath and steps out of her car into the February night. She gasps again but it doesn't seem as bad as before. Minus thirty-seven was already losing its shock value. Take that, Manitoba, she thinks as she walks to the rear of the car, opens the trunk and roots through her backpack for the map book she'd bought back home on the way to the airport. She's glad the wind is still, though.

Outside her car is a flat, white expanse. Standing there, she realizes how fresh and clean the air is, a dramatic contrast with Toronto. There are no streetlights, but the blanket of snow stretched out in the fields on either side of the road reflects so much of the moonlight that she can read the cover of the book. The only sound is from far off traffic, maybe someone else driving down a lonely country road in the middle of the night. Tara is suddenly about to cry and hurries back into her car, worried about tears freezing onto her face.

She had learned her grandfather had passed away when her mother had called to complain about the trouble she was having finding someone in Manitoba to clear all the crap of out his house so she could sell it. Tara had been at work.

"You never thought to let me know grandpa had died?"

"It didn't seem important. We don't talk to him anyway."

"No, mom, you didn't talk to me."

Tara didn't talk to him either, really, but not in the same way that her mother didn't. They'd never had the chance to establish a relationship.

Tara was planning her trip to Manitoba before she'd even got off the phone with her mother.

There are no landmarks she can match to the map, just snow-covered prairie and a few houses and clumps of trees. But she guesses she's only another ten kilometers away. She drags her mitten across her eyes and pops the Toyota back into drive. The map book sits open on the passenger seat.

11 responses to "Arrival "

Mark Kerstetter wrote: Friday, 25 Sep 2009 17:37 Vivid description and a good start to a longer story (I especially like the long fourth paragraph).

Laura Eno wrote: Friday, 25 Sep 2009 17:48 It sounds like maybe she'll find herself there, and perhaps some peace of mind. Good imagery!

Marisa Birns wrote: Friday, 25 Sep 2009 18:44 Enjoyed your story. I really liked the part where you say Tara didn't talk to her grandfather in a way that wasn't comparable to how she didn't talk to her mother. Very strong descriptive sections. Well done.

Kylie wrote: Friday, 25 Sep 2009 19:18 "...the cilia along her windpipe curling up in the frozen air, breaking off and tumbling down her windpipe." Now that's some nice Winnipeg imagery! And I really like the emotion that starts to come out towards the end of the piece. Manitoba is a good setting for loneliness. I'm very excited for a mad scientist story now xD

Leigh Barlow wrote: Sunday, 27 Sep 2009 08:40 A good opening to the longer story.

mazzz_in_Leeds wrote: Monday, 28 Sep 2009 08:40 Got a definite sense of uber-cold! I'd like to read the longer piece, now.. ... and the mad scientist piece too :)

PJ @doublelattemama wrote: Monday, 28 Sep 2009 14:53 Nice descriptions - I admire Tara for schlepping up to manitoba (do they speak french there?). I'm very interested in seeing what she finds there ...!

ganymeder wrote: Tuesday, 29 Sep 2009 08:32 I liked it, especially the part about the cilia in her windpipe freezing and breaking off. :) I don't think I ever want to go there. Nice description. I could see how it would be a good opener for Nanowrimo. I hope you do it again this year! (*Just another month!)

2mara wrote: Tuesday, 29 Sep 2009 21:49 I'm fashionably late... I am much colder now having read this piece... I am blaming you if I catch cold :-P ~2

judy b. wrote: Tuesday, 29 Sep 2009 22:16 You conveyed the sense of cold in vivid detail. I particularly like this line: "She'd had an image of all the cilia along her windpipe curling up in the frozen air, breaking off and tumbling down her windpipe."

J. M. Strother wrote: Wednesday, 30 Sep 2009 13:23 You convey a lot of emotional trauma between mother and daughter with just subtle hints. Nicely done. ~jon

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