Pink Snow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short story was written by Whisper Gate, a new author with a love for threats unspoken, and the eerie chill of mystery. This is her very first writing, I hope you enjoy her work as I am looking forward to more from her!

Submitted: March 29, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 29, 2016




By: Whisper Gate


Retirement for my father was not easy; mom however was thrilled. Dad had been a detective for one of the best law enforcement agencies in the country. He was undercover for a while. Those were tough years for all of us. Dad would be gone for weeks at a time. Mom found her comfort at the bottom of a glass of Macallen Scotch and me, well I was just lonely with no siblings to play with, to argue with, silent and often invisible.


My father eventually left undercover work and became a homicide detective and THAT was an improvement. Mom was better and Dad and I connected. Upon his retirement, I realized how diligent and skilled my father was at his craft. Awards and accolades seemed endless during the optimistically somber retirement dinner surrounded by the other family, his brother’s in blue. Mom and I were so proud of him that evening; and moreover, we were excited to begin a new chapter in our lives.


By this point I was working as a Journalist with a son of my own, Jack. Jack’s mother and I just couldn’t seem to make it work, but I had my son and that was everything to me. I wasn’t alone anymore.


My parents had a nice little cabin tucked away in the Adirondack Mountains. We hadn’t visited the cabin much growing up, because of dad’s work. Now that he was retired we all looked forward to spending time together there…..reconnecting……making good memories.


It took my father a while to decompress yaknow? He had such a demanding and serious job, the kind that can suck damn near every drop of energy and attention from a man. But, little by little you could see him relax a bit more into this new life, this life of ease and rest. –Exhale-


Mom was not drinking anymore, she had dedicated herself to him and he started to see her again. We were all forming a new and improved unit.


It was a few weeks after Christmas when we all headed out to the cabin in the Adirondack Mountains for a long anticipated family holiday. Dad and I are active and enjoyed catching up during a brisk morning hike while mom and little Jack stayed back to make cookies and pizza dough.


I came in from our hike, sat down and decided to start working on a new article about the peace found in the great outdoors. Jack scurried out the heavy door to meet dad with excitement despite the steadily increasing snowfall and chilling winds. Dad “helped” Jack gather dried wood for the fireplace. Dad disappeared for a bit to go clear a path at the edge of the property, for Jack to play in I assume.


As boys will do…..Jack wandered off to explore – no harm. Jack was eight years old and a smart kid. He loved to explore and had a great interest in nature. He would always be collecting plant leaves, stones it was the little things, often overlooked, that held the most interest to Jack.


This afternoon as dad was busy chopping wood down by the old tool shed, he thought he heard something out of the ordinary, a voice, a cry a rustling of brush. He paused, nothing. Must have been his imagination, an animal of the mountains or just too many years as a detective. He chocked it up to his suspicious nature. He called Jack over, they gathered the wood together and headed back to the cabin.


That evening at dinner while we all shared the home cooked pizza we all reviewed the day we had. Dad and I talked about a new trail we wanted to hike. Mom even agreed to give it a try, she was never the outdoors type so this was a big deal.


Jack talked about the plants he had discovered and some animals he thought might be nearby “I heard them, I really did!” he would exclaim.


Then the subject of tomorrow came up. We all took turns giving our rundown of what our individual tomorrows looked like.  Jack piped up fist loudly proclaiming “tomorrow I’m going to explore the pink snow behind the toolshed!”




Dad put down his pizza and I watched his face transform from happy grandpa the detective face. Turning his head slowly, he peered out the window beside the china cabinet, searching the night forest.


As I walked to the bannister after tucking Jack into bed I saw a light still on downstairs. There sat my mother, her old friend a small glass of Macallan Scotch sitting with her on the end table.


Dad was not in bed.


I knew where he was.


-Back on the job-


Seeking… snow



© Copyright 2018 Nick Garcia. All rights reserved.

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