Snowflakes In Autumn, 1e

Today’s entry wraps up Chapter One of Snowflakes In Autumn. I apologize for the brevity of yesterday’s entry (and today’s, for that matter), but that’s how the edits worked out when I decided to spread the chapter out over five daily entries. Next week should work out a little more evenly, as I plan to interrupt the novel with a regular essay on Wednesday, allowing me to chop things up into four entries instead of five.

Have a great weekend, and check back Monday to see what happens next, when things progress into a more present narrative now that the backstory summary is out of the way. I hope you like it!

Snowflakes In Autumn
Chapter Four, Part Five

(click here to start at Chapter One, Part One)

After that, I spent some time wandering in the wilderness of adulthood, finding temporary nighttime mates where I could, and trying to give up on love.

Somewhere along my journey, I met a girl who said she loved her husband, but who wanted to be with me for just one night. She suggested an after-hours rendezvous at the park in her neighborhood, where she’d take her kids to play on the slides during the day. The park was called Imagination Station, and I never went.

I met another girl who looked like a movie star and had the drug habit to match, along with three kids and two ex-husbands.

I made love to an unattainable girl I’d wanted for years, then she joined the Peace Corps and left the country.

I slithered my way into the bed of a wonderful woman without realizing that I’d also worked my way into her heart until I’d broken it.

I met a girl who’d been to Paris, and another who’d been to Rome, but neither of whom had been to Earth.

In short, I spent a lot of time meeting a lot of women, but I never found one that I liked. Never one that I could love.

****

Eventually, the emptiness is what gets you. Disgust takes over as boredom sets in, as the exotic becomes routine. Tired and lonely, each new day brings fresh horrors as you begin to realize that you’ve started looking back more than you’re looking forward. Counting past glories, living inside the warm nostalgia of old memories and always wanting something better, you pin your dreams on streamers of hope and watch them carried away by the wind.

You want something to cling to and someone to hold onto, and you long for someone to hold onto you. Eventually, you just want to stop wanting, and you begin the destructive process of learning hate and loathing and regret.

Your friends all get married, and your old girlfriends move on. Meanwhile, you stand there watching all the old flames pop and hiss and die, and you realize that you’re standing alone. Cold, disgusted, and lonely, you stand alone.

Always alone.

End Of Chapter One

Continue to Chapter Two, Part One

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