Fire and Ash

Chapter 1 - Arrogance

The chilly, winter air howls in the wind, and I grab the tip of my hood so it doesn't blow off my head. This year's winter has been getting worse day by day, which means food is going out of stock. Unfortunately, that means I have to go to the grocery store to get some food.

The snow crunches beneath my feet as I rush to the car; snowflakes land on my cheeks and melt within the same second.

I push the key into the ignition and turn it, hoping to hear the car's engine purr. With my luck, it wouldn't start and I'd be forced to walk, possibly being kidnapped along the way.

"Please Valco, forgive me of my sins," I whisper, praying to the God of Time, silently hoping for this old piece of junk to last me at least one more drive.

The engine starts and I sigh with relief, my knuckles loosening on the wheel, and I look up from my lap to see snow across the windshield. Thank Valco it's not much and I use the windshield wipers to wipe it off.

My phone blares, and I jump before grabbing it out of my purse, which currently sits in the passenger seat.

I read the message that comes across my screen: Weather alert! Roads are icy and not suitable for driving. The wind is blowing at fifty miles per hour. Feels like negative three degrees Fahrenheit.

"Wait, this is a snowstorm? I thought it was perfect weather for a beach trip," I grumble out sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I back out of the small driveway, my windshield wipers still swiping back and forth.

I make it onto the road and put my hazard lights on, watching as the snow falls rather quickly.

About ten minutes of driving go by surprisingly easy, and hope starts to light deep within me, although I don't let it burn any brighter, because it's likely to not stay this easy forever.

I start to think about the myth that has changed through years and years of storytelling, and a part of me hopes it might be real, that maybe, just maybe, I could find some strength to get me to the grocery store. If not for me, then for my sick sister, who needs the food more than I do.

A memory of my mother reading aloud the myth to me, my sister, and my brother springs to life as I'm driving: "The Gods placed themselves in trees to watch over their people and make sure they aren't to cause trouble," Mom says, pausing when she sees my confused look.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she asks.

"Why trees?" I say, my eyebrows scrunching together.

"Because sweetie," she says, lifting the blanket higher for us all as we lay next to her on the bed, "Trees are a symbol of life and death. The process of life. The exact thing the Gods resemble. They show how things that once possessed beauty will eventually die, along with the impact they carried, whether it was shelter for an animal or food for another. But in a human's case, it would be the friendships they shared with others or the laughs they had with strangers."

The memory brings a smile to my lips, and I tap my fingers along the wheel, slowly cruising along the road.

Now and then, I come across another vehicle, driving slowly across the slick pavement. The snow still heavily pours from the sky, the trees outside now dead and the bare branches blow in the breeze.

I take the turn into the grocery store and park as close to the entrance as I can, pulling my black gloves and mask out of the glove compartment and quickly slipping them on.

The lightweight mask is due to the deadly disease- Noria- that has been seeping throughout America like syrup on pancakes.

I spend about fifteen minutes in the store before quickly making it back to my car, bags in hand. I load the bags into the trunk and race to the driver seat, shutting the door quickly.