When The Snow Falls

Chapter 1: Stories, Hung Over and, wait, why's it snowing?

Becky looked out the window. The sight of being so high was just so beautiful. It sure was different being above the clouds. But there was always something about the clouds. Something that made her feel a feeling of dread of hopelessness.
"At least it's not raining." She said. Becky was flying to Texas. She'd decided to move back to the town she grew up in. Mallard Creek. Five years ago, that small town was in a state of stress.
Always watching it's back to see if it was raining. It may not seem like a big deal if it was raining, but it was a big deal.
She didn't think about it much. She had her whole life ahead of her. Why let the storms get in the way of that? "Ma'am?" Becky faced the flight attendant.
"Yes?" She said. "You seem quite tired, would you like a pillow?" That seemed generous. "Yes, that would be nice, thank you."
The flight attendant returned with a boring, white pillow. She handed Becky the pillow. It was cold but nice. "Thank you." She said, giving her a smile.
"Enjoy the rest of your flight." The flight attendant said, also giving her a smile. Becky placed her boring pillow on the arm of her chair and rested her head on it. It was the crappiest and most painful position to sleep in, but she managed to doze off.

Becky drove by the local research center. She'd always wondered what happened there, most of the windows were smashed and it was abandoned.
Becky continued driving, "Not too much longer." She whispered. A grin formed on her face. She was really excited to be moving back in. She'd greet the sheri-oh wait, nevermind.
Her grin died.
She drove by a sign saying, welcome to Mallard's Creek! Home sweet home. It was nice to see the water tower had been fixed. And the statue still stood, the shiny ball letting everyone around know what happened on September twenty third, 2006.
Becky found her home, she knew it was hers because of the hideous orange door. She pulled into the drive way and stopped the car.
She took a few breaths before stepping out of the car. It was oddly cold. That was strange. It was during the summer in southern Texas. Becky grabbed her keys from her purse. She walked up to her disgusting door. She unlocked it and stepped in.
She took in a deep breath through her nose, which was a bad idea. A putrid smell entered her nose, absolutely terrible.
It was a sickly sweet sort of stink, like rotting fruit. Sort of spicy. "What the hell is that?" She said, pulling her shirt up to her nose, although it didn't do much to help.
She decided to investigate. That meant pulling the shirt down. "Oh no, I hope the smell isn't stuck inside." She groaned.
Becky decided to walk up the steps which were right in front of the front door. It was kind of frustrating. She walked up the steps. Becky! Are you okay? Voices echoing in her head. You ready? She shook the thought away.
The spicy smell got more intense.
She took a right, to where the bathroom was. She put her nose to it. "Oh, that's it." The stench was so much stronger there. It was enough to make a grown man back away.
Becky didn't, however.
She turned the knob slowly, preparing herself for what was inside. She instantly pushed the door open. She jumped back and shouted and cursed at the sight inside the bathroom.
"Is that real?" She cried. In the bathtub was a man, his insides now outsides. His intestines were spilled out over his legs. The man's eyes were plucked out. His tongue bleeding.
There was a cross carved into it. "This is insane!" She screamed. She ran outside and hopped into her car, driving off to the sheriffs office.
She pushed the door open and walked up to the receptionist. This place had work done. "How can I help you, ma'am?" The lady asked.
Becky was in shock. "So-so-so I just moved in-and-uh-there's this guy in-in my bathtub, and he'd like, dead." She said.
The woman's face went all serious and confused. "Wait, what?" She asked, but in a What the hell sort of way. "Just let me see the sheriff." The woman swallowed a couple times.
"We don't have a sheriff, we have a mayor though, he does the same thing though."
What? "Okay, mayor-sheriff, whatever, just let me see someone!" She shouted.

"Don't worry, hun', you can sleep here tonight. Ms Susan said. "Thank you so much! You are so kind." Becky said, pulling her into a hug. "Just shower up, you smell like death." Ms Susan was a deathly honest person.
"No problem, sorry."
"It's alright. Sleep in Dall-yeah. Just his room I guess." Susan said.

After Becky got changed into sleeping clothes, she wanted to talk with Susan. Susan was sitting on her couch, reading a book. She must have loved books. Though she was always reading the same one.
"Hey, Susan." Becky said, taking a seat in a wooden chair by the wall. "What do you need, hun'?" Susan asked.
"How've you been holding up? You know, ever since, Uncle?"
Susan swallowed. "If you want me to be honest with you, then I guess everything has been a lot more difficult. Now I don't have anyone to go get my eggs."
Susan chuckled. "Ya know, I've got a story for you, Becky." Susan said, sitting up, shutting her book. "One day, I sent Dallas out to get some eggs for me. While he was out there, one of them damned storms came." She paused.
"I don't know why, but I hadn't realized it was storming. Until some the bastard started beating on my damn walls." She laughed.
"I took my shot gun with me out there to tease him a bit, but I had to use it on someone with an axe, standing over my child." She paused again, looking up at the ceiling. "After the storm went away, he looked at me, showed me a hand full of cracked eggs, only two still intact. Know what he said?" Susan said.
"What'd he say?" Becky asked.
"He said, well, I got the eggs." Then Susan burst out in laughter. "After...after all that! All he.. all he cared about.. all he cared for was the damn eggs! Can you.. can you even believe that!" She laughed.
Becky also laughed. It felt good to laugh. Especially for Susan, since Uncle's recent passing. He was murdered in Mexico on a missionary trip.
Susan always said that would happen. And it did. And she felt extremely guilty about it. "Well, thanks for the story. I'd better go to bed." Susan groaned. "You doin' anything tomorrow?" She asked.
"Well, no." Becky said. "Well if you ain't got a schedule, would you like to watch some movies with ol' Susan?" Susan asked.
"Sure thing."

Becky woke up, groaning. She rubbed her sore, sore eyes. So sore. They'd stood up the whole night. Susan decided to take Becky to the local town bar, and she got her drunk.
Her head throbbed, pulsing with sick feelings of nausea. Becky could barely remember it, but she knew she got drunk. She could tell by all the throwing up later that morning. Even worse, Becky totally forgot. She did have something to do that day. She took a long, hot shower and played a game called, don't throw up in Susan's shower.
Becky didn't win that game. Becky had to get a job. She was going to try to be one of the deputy's of the town. It wouldn't be that hard, right? Like, it want one of those cities or bigger towns where you had all that training and tests and academy.
By Mallard's Creek standards, as long as you could shoot a gun, drive, was eighteen or over and did the oath, you were good.
Becky got dressed but still felt a little hung over, so maybe she shouldn't try to get a job as deputy when she's hung over.
But she still wanted to see other options.
Susan was asleep, so Becky opened the door slowly and quietly. She stepped outside with her back to the outside.
It was still cold. Odd. Becky turned to face outside and her car. "What in the hell is this?"
There were white flakes falling from the sky quickly and violently, the flakes covering her clothes and face. A flat, white blanket covered the ground for as far as she could see.
Was it snowing? "Oh my goodness." She said. She went back inside and woke up Susan. "What the hell do you want? You know I feel like shit!" Susan shouted. "You need to see this.
Susan looked out the window. "What in tarnation?" She said. "Why is it snowing? It's the middle of summer and it's southern Texas." Becky said.
"Maybe we're still drunk, or dreaming." Susan said, groggily. "I feel fine." Becky said.
"Then that means I'm dreaming."
"Sure, but if you're not, we're in trouble."