The Snow by Jan Darrow

Matthew was buying roses for his dead wife when he met Sylvie in a flower shop.  They started a conversation that carried over into Starbucks and soon she carried her belongings into his large house outside of the city.  It was something alright, 6,000 square feet of luxurious rooms surrounded by a formal garden.

Sylvie was a bohemian.

 

Matthew’s dead wife was Elaine.  The house had been hers.  She was rich.  She liked order and formality. Matthew grieved for her, but what he didn’t know was he was about to be served with divorce papers. It seems Elaine had a boyfriend, but luckily, she died.

After Sylvie moved in, she bought a flock of ponies.  They enjoyed the garden and ate everything formal they could find.  So, Sylvie planted vegetables - tomatoes, zucchini, beans, corn and sunflowers.  When she finished, she put up wire fencing.

Inside, Sylvie rearranged furniture, stacked pillows on floors, lit incense and burned lavender candles.  She liked to call it - casual formal.

And Matthew was ok with everything "Sylvie" because for the first time in a while he was having fun.

  

One late summer weekend Sylvie invited a few friends and a Ouija board over.  Oh, and a spiritualist who pretty much looked like everyone else except she had shiny silver hair.  Before it got dark, wine was served and so were some vegetarian veggies. Then the lavender candles were lit.

 

The Ouija board had a mind of its own.  Matthew knew who was spewing letters out one by one and it scared him.  His dead wife was communicating, and a couple of things were very clear – she didn’t like the vegetable garden or the ponies.

The next day the ponies were herded away.

   

When autumn came, the big house grew cold and dismal. Matthew was nervous and distant. 

One evening in December Sylvie stood in the dark living room looking out into the garden when something caught her eye.  Snow swirled down against the lights. As she drew closer a face looked up at her through the window.  It was a woman’s face hideous and raw with a wide gaping mouth and flesh the color of bone.

 

Sylvie reeled in horror and ran out of the room only to find Matthew in the hall.  She begged him to go – leave the miserable house for the holidays.  And why not?  She hadn’t given up her apartment in the city.  They could go there.

A little while later Matthew put their suitcases and holiday boxes in the car.  He closed the door and lit a cigarette.

  

Sylvie was inside gathering up the last of the gifts in the hall when she noticed the door at the end ajar.  She walked cautiously toward it.  There was no sound coming from the darkness beyond and she opened it wide and stepped outside.  The snow was falling heavy now and it was deep and beautiful.

The car was ready to go. Matthew couldn’t find Sylvie anywhere.  He called her name upstairs and down and finally stepped into the hall.  Snow was swirling in through the open door and piling up on the carpet, so he closed it.

He found Sylvie two days later when they came to clear the walk.

  

On Valentine’s Day Matthew was buying roses for his dead wives when he met Ava in a flower shop.

Jan Darrow is a poet from Michigan who connected with the natural world at an early age.  She has been published online and in print and finds abandoned places utterly beautiful.  You can see more of her work at jandarrow.blogspot.com.