CHAPTER 2 CORALINE
CORALINE
This was a last-minute trip, but I managed to gather some art pieces together that I hadn’t shown anyone to take to the Holly Jolly Arty Event. Holly Jolly Arty…how festive is that?
I shipped watercolor pieces and oil paintings. I’m still learning how to draw people. It’s pretty tricky getting all the shading done.
After my plane landed, I took an Uber to the nearest restaurant, ate warm, delicious soup dumplings, and spent the rest of the night exploring until my feet hurt.
As I stand in the middle of the street by a black lamppost with a red bow tightly secured around the top, eating a raspberry cheese danish and watching the snow slowly fall around me, I smile.
A smile that feels weightless and reaches my eyes and ears.
The stars twinkle brighter in the sky here.
The people are friendly. There are no cell phones in sight.
All the simple feel-good emotions run through me, making me feel like a kid again on Christmas night.
Sleepy Coldwater is a cute small town in the mountains of Alaska.
Everyone knows everyone by the way every store owner talks.
There are a few schools, one medical center, one movie theater, and many small businesses.
I’ve visited almost every single store deep on the main street of downtown.
There’s a cute winter coat store with thick fuzzy socks, called Cozy Fuzzy.
A bakery shop called Sugar Plum next to impossible. I always check in with her and my older sister, Everly. Ev has told me numerous times how jealous she is that I’m in Alaska before her.
Holding my cell phone tight in my hands, my finger pats the screen as I text Maya.
Me:
Have I told you how much I love you?
Maya:
I told you. It’s stunning, isn’t it?
Me:
Yes!
Maya:
Bring me back a souvenir. Also, I already booked your return flight. Check your e-mail for the itinerary. I forwarded it to you ten minutes ago. NOW.
Me:
Yes, Mom. I’m surprised you’re getting these texts. The signal is extremely choppy here. It’s bad. I don’t have service ninety percent of the time.
Maya:
Good. You get to disconnect. Enjoy nature.
The art convention is held downtown. Every street lamp is decorated with warm lights strung from top to bottom.
Everyone walking wears a peaceful smile on their joyful faces, along with their winter coats, mittens, and beanies.
The snow grows heavier by the second, but I noticed how well the sidewalks are paved for walking.
Everything looks so clean and organized, with nothing out of place.
My eyes glow, soaring with glee and caffeine.
I palm the viciously cold windows, mesmerized by the snow-covered mountains in the distance and the thick white flurries that keep falling.
It’s been an eventful drive with breathtaking views.
We drive past the Sugar Plum and Butter bakery, and my mouth waters instantly as the familiar smell of freshly baked buttery bread and confections fills the air. I need to stop by after the event.
“Does it always snow like this every winter?” I ask my driver as I continue to watch the flurries fall and stick.
We don’t get snow in Texas, and if we do, it’s rare.
Piano Christmas music plays on the radio.
It feels like magic. I’m too glued to the town to look at her.
My fingers hold the door window. Frosty temperature bites back, leaving warm fingerprints, but I’m soaking up every minute of being in a different part of the world.
When I remove my hand, the white prints slowly fade, and I drink in the historic buildings as the car continues to move.
“It does. However, the local news warned everyone a week ago that we’re expecting the worst snowstorm in decades.
An arctic blast is running through. I hope you have everything you need while riding out the storm wherever you’re staying.
Oh. Another tip, stay away from—” She doesn’t get to finish.
Before I can blink, I’m rocketing forward, and my seatbelt tightens over my chest, restricting my breath.
The car brakes harshly, the screeching over the tires looming.
We’re sliding for one agonizing second before the car comes to a stop.
“That was close,” she murmurs before cursing under her breath as she stares at the prominent dark figure in front of the hood of the car.
In front of us is a moose with snow blanketing the tips of its antlers.
It slowly trudges along, and my eyes grow wide as I take in the animal I’ve seen in pictures but never in real life.
Its dark brown fur coat is thick, and it strolls with long strides.
Shaking its head, the snow falls from the antlers and onto the pavement.
It saunters over to the other side of the street, where it’s nothing but vast land with tall trees.
I follow its tracks, my head tilting as it goes. It turns a corner, disappearing.
“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice shaky.
“Moose,” she huffs, tightening her hands over the steering wheel.
She lowers the dial on the radio before glancing over her shoulder.
“Marvelous creatures. You’ll find them everywhere.
Downtown, the hospital, even your backyard.
” She shakes her head, forcing a lazy grin.
“Yes, I’m okay.” My heart rate slowly returns to normal. I thought we were going to crash. With my hand on my tightening chest, I lay my head back down on the seat and take a deep breath. Shutting my lids, I rub my temples.
“Well, the good news is, we’ve made it to your destination. The Holly Jolly Arty Event.” My eyes spring open. I quickly gather my mittens and place them back on.
She points to the right side of the car, landing on a four-story building by the sidewalk with sharp icicles lining the gutters.
“Oh, we’re here!” I exclaim as I grab my purse. “Thank you so much.”