Crying Skies

Chapter 1: The Storm

It was late spring in Georgia, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. The Earth had bloomed back into life, and as my friend and I drove through the countryside, I couldn't help but just stare out into the now lively nature. This winter had been a particularly brutal one, and everyone expected it to last long into the months of March and April. I saw snow for the first time in a long time, and I remember there being record-breaking temperatures. I grew up a big-time hunter, and hunting in the snow was a lot more fun than any standard hunt, even if I didn't have any snow camouflage clothing. I remember the meteorologist saying it was unlike any winter they had seen before, and everyone soon grew tired of the bitter cold. And after a hunter from our hometown went missing in a snowstorm, many people believed it wasn't safe to be out alone in nature's brutality. But every farm and property I hunted on was a friend's, so I was never alone. I remember the snow also being a big deal at our college campus.

In the beginning, people loved it and we had a lot of parties outside, but they soon moved inside. But I remember one day suddenly, it was like the harsh winter had disappeared. About midway through March, the temperatures begin to drastically rise from where they were, and everything was alive and warm again. It was nearing the end of April, and soon I would be finished with this last semester of my junior year in college. I didn't have many plans for the summer, but I wasn't caring about that anyway. Like most college students I lived life week by week, only caring about getting to that Friday night so I could spend my weekends in a blur. But this weekend, a couple of friends and I had decided to get out of town. Two twins who I grew up with and joined the same fraternity owned a small cabin on an isolated lake in southern Georgia. It was out of the way and the perfect getaway from the hustle and bustle of normal college life. During my younger years I was a big outdoorsman, spending a lot of time fishing and camping But nowadays I hardly ever spent any time outdoors save for a few hunting trips. I was looking forward to a weekend on the lake, with just three other guys. My friend, Rob was blaring a country station with his windows down as we drove, and I had reluctantly listened to the same few country songs I felt like I heard all the time, as I scrolled through social media and played games on my phone until I got bored and just stared out the window. As we turned a corner, I eyed a cross next to a tree, the mark of a bad car accident. Rob quickly glanced at it too.

"Shit man," Rob spoke for the first time since we had gotten gas about thirty minutes back.

"What?" I asked

"When we invited Sal, we never told him he couldn't bring Olivia," he responded.

"Ok, but he knew it was supposed to be a guys-only weekend, I'm sure he didn't

Bring her."

"Dude, remember this December we went hunting here, and he brought her even though it was literally the same thing as this,"

"Yeah, and you got pissed at him and they left."

"And most people would have learned that lesson, but Sal is stubborn as hell. And ever since he started dating that girl all he cares about Is always being around her."

"Yeah, that's what it's usually like having a girlfriend. That's why we've always avoided one."

"Whatever man, I just don't wanna think about it," Rob turned back towards the road.

"And if she's there what are you gonna do?" I asked.

"Same thing as last time, tell them to get the f out."

We continued to drive without talking, as we passed the last few gas stations and restaurants, and the only buildings left were other cabins here and there. Finally, after crossing a bridge to stream, he took a left turn on a dirt road, where we stopped to unlock the gate. At this point, I had memorized the code, as I had been going here all my life. After the gate, there was a dirt road to the cabin, which actually took about five to eight or so minutes to get to, so the house was nestled way off from the main road. Finally, you would get to a hill and drive down it, which would take you to the small cabin and the gravel parking lot. Sitting in the parking lot was Sal's brand new Ford white pickup truck, and Rob's brother's old Jeep. It was an olive green Wrangler from the 90s and decked out. It sat on two large tires, with black rims, and came equipped with a brush guard, winch, and light bar on its leather top. Jerry could have afforded to upgrade anytime to a newer car as his brother had, but he had insisted on keeping this one. And I couldn't blame him. Putting aside the shitty gas mileage and bumpy rides, it looked totally badass. And there was some appeal about the old style, just like this cabin. I knew their family could afford to sell it and get a more expensive and modernized lake house, but there was an appeal to this vintage style. At the bottom of the hill, it sat hidden under the low-hanging cypress trees and Spanish moss.