The Snow Shines Red: Scene Two

Here's the second scene from my abandoned story, The Snow Shines Red. Hope you enjoy!
To read part one, click HERE.

He sat there in the sunshine on the beach, watching the children splash in the water. The gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder caused him to look up into the eyes of his one true love.
“Hi," she greeted, sitting down next to him. “I got your call and came as soon as I could. What’s up?”
Ian’s heart began to hammer as he thought about what he was going to propose. “Well, I just wanted to see you. Make sure you get out of that stuffy apartment of yours.”
Loni laughed. “Is that all? I thought you had something important you wanted to tell me.”
“I just wanted to be with you.”
Loni sobered up and the couple sat in silence for a minute. “That’s sweet of you Ian," she said quietly. “I wish we could see each other more often.”
“I’m thinking of moving to Seattle," he commented casually. “I like Olympia, but it’s too far of a drive to come and see you.”
“I’d like that.” Her face visibly brightened. “There are some really nice apartments up for rent a mile from my place. We could meet up for walks.”
Ian smiled at her. Her face was like the sunshine breaking out of the summer storm, her eyes as blue as the sea itself.
Something stirred in Ian, something was bothering him.
Memory. This was a memory. He’d been here before. He remembered this. Why was he here again? This had happened already, why was it happening again?
He didn’t propose. Why hadn’t he proposed? Ah, that was right. He’d been afraid to. He didn’t know how to propose to her. He loved her, but did she want to marry him? What if she just wanted to be his girlfriend? Maybe she wasn’t ready for marriage.
Why was this happening again? How come he remembered this so perfectly and it was happening all over again? What was happening?
“Ian!” Loni’s voice was urgent and Ian glanced at her. The way she looked caused him to tense all over. Something was not right. “Ian, find her!”
“Find who? Who are you talking about?” he stammered. Plane. Falling.
“Find her!” Loni repeated, her voice more desperate than before. “Find her!”
There was a loud noise and Ian whipped his head around to stare at the beach. What made that sound? Plane. Falling.
“Ian!” Loni was practically shouting now. “Find that child!”
“What chi-”
White. Everything was white. The sky was white, the ground was white. Ian was in a world of white.
All he was aware of was the whiteness. It blinded him, it surrounded him. He was alone in a world of whiteness, nothing was there but him and the white.
And the cold.
It took him a second to notice how cold it was. This white he was surrounded by stung him like a thousand bees. Everything stung, everything was cold. He didn’t like this white.
Ian swatted at the white, he kicked at it. It was still there and it continued to attack him with cold fingers. Am I dead?
Like a bucket of water Ian felt a wave of pain wash over him. The white had to be attacking him, why else would he hurt? Why was it cold? What did the white want with him?
“Leave me alone!” he tried to shout, but the white muffled his voice. He couldn’t speak nor breath.
Panic seized him, he began to shake uncontrollably. What is going on?
He kicked harder, he flailed his arms everywhere. He had to defeat this unseen enemy. He needed to find color!
Like a flash of lightning his world exploded with sounds, sights and smells. Ian yelled and fell onto his back.
There was still white everywhere, but now he could see trees and a black sky. And a burning plane.
For twenty-five seconds Ian gasped breath as he stared at the smoldering structure that had once been a two hundred passenger Delta plane. A plane that he’d been on.
Ian leapt up as he realized what had just happened. His body wasn’t ready for the sudden action and he collapsed in the snow face first. Sitting up slowly, his mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Bomb. The plane crashed. Where is the seat I was in? There was something else in the seat. Why was there a bomb? His eyes caught sight of a strange looking stuffed creature. It was a koala bear. What is happening? Where am I? What was in the seat? Loni said child. What child? What was in the-
With a cry Ian once more leapt up. He nearly toppled over again, but he regained his composure and raced towards the plane.
He had to find the child.
Pain gripped his sides, his arms and legs. His ribs hurt the most and he figured he must have broken a couple. How did I get detached from the seat and where is my oxygen mask? He’d figure those things out later.
He couldn’t get close to the plane- the whole thing was engulfed in flames that leapt twenty feet in the air. Every step he took towards him warned him to draw back- no one could survive a fire like that.
Despair gripped his heart. He couldn’t be the only survivor. He couldn’t be.
Crying. He heard crying.
Ian’s heart raced. Crying was a good sign! Crying meant life!
First he raced towards the left, then finding the sound had dissipated he raced back to where he’d been standing. There it was again!
“Where are you!” he shouted. “Where are you!”
No answer, but the cries grew louder. They were coming from a large scrap of metal that had fallen far enough from the plane that it hadn’t been touched by the fire.
Ignoring the searing pain in his body Ian threw himself forward, reaching the metal scrap in record time and shoving it aside.
Alive. She was alive. And still strapped in the seat.
Ian’s hands trembled as he dropped to the ground beside her. He ripped the oxygen mask off her face and pulled at the seat belt until he remembered to hit the button to unlatch it.
“Oh dear God, you’re alive!” he cried, his own cheeks wet with tears. Her face had a large gash on the side and her hand was bloodied, but he didn’t spot any severe injuries right off the bat.
She didn’t move as he freed her from her seat, but her sobs increased as he picked her up and engulfed her in a bear hug. “You’re okay, I’m here," he murmured between gritted teeth, his ribs scolding him severely as he held her close to his chest. “You’re okay.”
Survivors. He had to find more survivors.
Ian scanned the snow-covered ground and spotted the nose of the plane. It had landed next to a tree and sat in an upright position so that it offered a sort of protection from the cold wind that was beginning to pick up. That would work fine.
“You’re okay. You’re okay," he continued to mutter under his breath as he trotted towards the tree, holding the little girl close to his chest.
She was sobbing uncontrollably, and rightfully so. Ian didn’t expect her to answer him as he set her down underneath the large chunk of metal. “I’ll be right back," he assured.
He turned around to run back to the plane when she sobbed, “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
Ian couldn’t turn back, he had to help the others. There were two hundred passengers on that plane, surely more than himself and the child had lived. There had to be. There just had to be.


McFadden’s journal
How much more precious life becomes to you when you’ve barely escaped with your own. How even more so your love for your fellow human’s life when you survive something like this. I can’t help but wonder if I could have done something more, if I could have saved more of the passengers than myself and the child.
We’re alone in the wilderness, I’m not even sure where. All I know is the plane went down five hours after takeoff- and the child and I are the only survivors.
Ian stared at the small fire he’d built and pocketed the pen and notebook. The little girl lay next to him, buried so deep under the garments and blankets he’d recovered that all he could see was the top of her head.
His search brought up nothing- he didn’t find anyone. He was lucky to have found the two duffel bags that had endured the crash, even more blessed to find out that they were filled with blankets and winter clothes. Neither he or the little girl had been wearing coats when the plane had crashed.
His heart was heavy as he sighed and covered his face with a knit scarf. It was cold out. Really cold. Wherever the plane had crashed was experiencing sub-zero temperatures. He and the little girl lay under the blankets together, trying to keep each other warm against the dangerously cold temperatures. How awful would that be, Ian grunted, to survive a plane crash and freeze instead.
The child was still shivering and Ian gently put his arm around her and drew her closer. He lifted up the blanket they shared and glanced into her tear streaked face.
“Do you need another coat?” he asked softly.
Her sea-blue eyes met his gaze and she shook her head, her hair falling in wisps around her. She snuggled up next to him and squeezed her koala bear that Ian had successfully rescued.
Ian let the blanket fall over her head so the cold wouldn’t freeze her face.
He stared up at the sky and noted that dawn would be approaching soon. It must be seven or eight in the morning, he figured.
He knew for sure that they were very far up north- where else would they be if it was this cold in the middle of March?
A chill went down his spine and he wrapped the scarf a little tighter around his face. He doubted they’d sleep at all tonight, the terror of the past several hours still hung heavy over both of them.
The fire that had entrenched the plane had died down to a smoldering flame. Ian had used some of the flame to start the small fire that cast shadows now. Wood had been easy to find- after all, they were encamped under a tree. Getting it dry was a lot harder, but after several unsuccessful attempts he’d managed to get the fire started and stay lit.
Dear God, why did this happen? He stared into the sky and watched as the stars slowly began to fade. Why would you let so many people die in one night?
The child and him were the only survivors. Ian had found no one else.
Part of him wanted to yell in anger, the other half wanted to sob in horror. Two hundred passengers. Two survivors. A hundred and ninety-eight casualties.
Why was there a bomb? Ian’s mind drifted. Why was there a bomb on that plane? What was the reason for it? Where those two men who knew my name behind it? Why did they know my name?
So many questions and Ian doubted if they’d get answered.
Abroad, a lone wolf called. His voice drifted in the night like one of the dirges in Ireland Ian had grown up hearing. Alone, alone, the wolf seemed to be saying.
Alone with a child who didn’t look like she was older than seven. Alone in the wilderness where no one knew where they were.
What are we to do? How will we survive with no food or water?
His mind began to tire. It had been too long of a night.
As the first rays of daylight began to play across the snow, Ian began to drift asleep as his mind noted sleepily that the snow shined red. The snow shines red, just like the code I was supposed to use when I met up with the American agent. There was not going to be a meeting. Perhaps never again.

Okay, that's pretty much it. I don't really have any more scenes from this, a couple of random thoughts and one shots. I gave you the best scenes. :) Hope you liked it!


  1. Booo! You have to work on this one after Free!

    1. Well, I don't know about that. :) I have some other stories I'd like to do that take priority over this one. I really liked it, but when I analized the content it's quiet typical of a CIA agent story. Y'know, "Almost certain death, against all odds and with a child they have to take care of." There's a couple of twists and turns along the way, but I think this one will have to sit in the "Clips" folder for a while. :) Glad you like it, though.

  2. That was really good!!! Can I ask why you never finished it?
    Thanks for sharing your stories with us, I have really enjoyed them.

    1. Too many stories, too many repeating themes and far too many things I was doing at the time. :) This is one of three stories I took with me to the Inland Northwest Christian Writer's Conference. A good friend of mine (who is also an author and worked with me on my writing for several years) asked to see my stuff. She told me that among the three (The Snow Shines Red, Free, and a random little short story called Out of the Job) she liked Free the best. That's the one she recommended I work more on.
      And upon looking at how many other stories I have that include CIA agents, globe-trekking and little girls, I decided this one would stay in the folder for now.
      I'm glad you're enjoying the story clips! I have loads and loads of them. Don't worry, I won't post them all. ;)

    2. Ohhhh.... Why not ;)

    3. Uhm, because I may bore you all to death? :)

    4. I don't know if that's possible... All your stories seem to be chuck full of adventure and interesting characters living it out. And from all the other posts you put up there is nothing boring about you either ;) your always up to something knew whether its balancing acts on Bodie or chopping through the ice in his water bucket ;) or just giving your blog readers a tour of your farm. I have loved keeping up with you.

    5. Aww, well thank you! That's so sweet of you. :)

  3. Good writing 'Calamity'

    1. SARAH!!!! :D Thank you so much, glad you liked it. :) Wait until you see my current work, it's had more work than this one and it's a lot better thought out. :) When Mom and the sisters have a chance to read it, I'll give it to you. Thank you so much for commenting, wow, what a nice surprise!
      Love you!

  4. Calamity you are a awesome writer:D
    I love how every auther has some different way or twist of how they write... U could have the same plot line and yet there would be lots of differences......

  5. Its just another way of showing how Awesome and amazing God is!!!!:-)

    1. Thanks Janelle! I'm glad you like my writing. :) It blesses me to no end when someone really likes my writing, and I hope I inspire and bless others as well! :)

  6. Oh, I loved it! So sweet! I wish there was more...although I understand not having time to finish stories... :) It's kind of funny, because one of my brothers just finished reading part of an unfinished stories and asked, "Isn't there any more?" and I had to say that there wasn't. Arrgg! If only I had more time to write!!! :D

    1. Yeah, it seems we're notorious for starting something that we don't finish, are we not? ;) But hey, when we do finish something we feel so happy with ourselves. Personally I just think some of us are born seat-of-the-pants writers (my mentor proclaimed that's what I am) and others are planners. :) To each their own- we need all types in the writing world!


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