The fire trucks could not push through the snow. The mounds of white sparkling powder consumed the thigh of a full-grown man and piled up high enough to bury Lynn up to her tiny torso. When she first flung herself from the two-story Victorian on Bellevue Avenue, she almost drowned in the piles and piles of alabaster hell. Lynn skidded across her modest yard and landed face-first on the hidden sidewalk. When she tried to turn around, the fiery skeleton of her house greeted her. Then her head fell back down and all she saw was black. She grew too cold to feel.

Eventually Lynn pushed herself up, spitting out clumps of ice. She looked to her left. Nobody. Then she looked to her right. Her dog, Lawrence, coughed and choked as he sunk inch by inch into the snow. Lynn seized the white creature and pressed him to her leaping heart. She shut her eyes so tight that the muscles in the upper part of her face began to ache. She needed to escape the sight of ashes twirling in the wintery wind. Lynn gulped as she opened her eyes and faced Lawrence.

"What will Mom...?" Lynn whispered as she stroked the little dog. Lawrence nuzzled the inside of Lynn's arm. "I can't...Daddy..." Instead of finishing the sentence, she whimpered.


Lynn only looked up again when she heard big boots crunching through the snow.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"


It was Lynn's neighbor, Charlene, drowning under at least four scarves and two ski hats.


"I'm...well...the house..." Lynn just vaguely pointed at what was once her home. She quivered.

Charlene sighed and hugged Lynn. "But you're okay. You're okay." Lawrence made a few pitiful sounds as he tried to wiggle out from between Charlene and Lynn. Charlene stayed holding Lynn regardless. Despite the barriers of gloves and a coat, Lynn could feel Charlene's nails digging into her shoulders. They reminded her of the yellow claws that kept pounding her brain. Why couldn't she get rid of that image?

"Didn't anybody call the firefighters? When did you get out?"

"No, the phones aren't working, and I...don't know. I jumped out of the house and fell in the lawn, but I must have been down there a long time because now the house is...gone."

"You jumped?" Charlene scanned Lynn for bruises, cuts, scrapes--something she could fix quickly, unlike the destruction of eighteen years of family history. Nothing, only a dusting of animal hair on Lynn's clothes. 

"Yeah, I might have...I don't know. My eyes really hurt. My left arm feels pretty weak. I'm not sure how--”

"Is it broken?" Charlene did not wait for a response. She simply grabbed Lynn's arm. “You don't want--”

"Ow!"

"No, no, it's fine. Not broken. Good, good.”

"No, it's not broken. But my eyes ache. They ache a lot. So does the back of my head."

"You can still see?"


"Of course. I mean, I see you. You're Charlene."

"Yes..." Charlene mumbled distractedly, "How did it...? Did you leave a stove on or forget--”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“It could've been any number of things. I'm tired. I was working on homework and trying to find a new apartment for this upcoming semester...I think. But this growling sound...I'm not sure. Maybe I was sleeping, dreaming.”

At this point, Lawrence managed to wiggle out from between Lynn and Charlene. He plopped onto the snow with a crunch and started circling around Lynn. It was what he always did when he expected a treat. He did not see that his life was reward enough in this case.


“What I don't understand is why nobody else on the street did anything."

Lynn scrunched up her face. She suddenly appeared a decade older. "Well, when did you notice?"

"Just now, while pulling up. I have 4-wheel drive, so I went out to help my sister in Ashburn."

"You drove all the way to Ashburn in this?" She said it distractedly, shifting her gaze to the ashes in her yard. After dancing through the air, the ashes swirled to their descent, grazed the surface of the snow, and marked the white world with their sooty footprints. 

Charlene placed her hand on Lynn's shoulder. "Why don't you come to my house? Warm up, watch a movie. I'll get the church. They'll find a way to help, I'm sure. Until then, you can stay in my guest room. I'll find a way to fit your whole family. The sewing room--"

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Charlene." Lynn scooped up Lawrence and pressed him to her neck, but he resisted by barking in her ear. "SHHHH."

Lawrence quieted long enough for Charlene to speak.

"Of course. Come inside, come. I guess the phone won't work at my place, either, but at least you can stay warm, okay?" 

Lynn nodded as Charlene corralled her to next door. Their boots punched the snow over and over. Not only did its face show blackheads from the ashes. It now had pockmarks.

Charlene's house stood big and pink, reminiscent of a time when people strolled the streets reciting the works of Tennyson and Barrett Browning. It was a hoge-podge of shingles and curliecues. A large sticker or poster adorned every window. One poster read, "Tea time is always a good time," while another said, "Did you tie your bonnet today?" The stickers all represented small, prestigious liberal arts colleges. Swarthmore. Oberlin. Bowdoin. Williams. Grinnell. A magnolia tree shaded the East side of the old building, while radishes and toadstools would have graced the front lawn at any other time of year. When snow did not blanket the Fredericksburg suburb, you saw that Charlene's grass grew in a sad shade of yellow-brown.

Lynn scuttled into the hollow house and put Lawrence down on the floor. The dog sped off before anyone could say anything. When Lynn started to apologize, Charlene shook her head and asked Lynn to follow her.

"I'll grab Lawrence later and bring him to the guest room. It's a big house, but he won't get lost."

"Thanks."

Lynn followed Charlene, sticking too closely to her neighbor's ankles. When she stepped on the back of Charlene's shoe, she yelped, though it should have been Charlene yelping. Charlene issued no sound, but turned around.

"Do you want cider?"

"Um..."

"It's warm. I can put cinnamon in it. I got it from that place in the mountains. The one that sells apple doughnuts. They have a big sculpture of a--"

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"Of course. Just sit down here, Lynn."

Lynn nodded and plopped on a plain, pale sofa rendered in velour. She started twisting her hair around her finger.

"When's your family coming back?" Charlene called from the kitchen.

"I have no idea. Originally, Monday, but with this snowstorm...I mean, their flight had already been delayed twice, last time I spoke to them. I don't know when I'll hear from them again, though. No phone..."

"We'll have to find one that works," Charlene said as she entered the family room with a steaming cup of cider, "but don't worry about that now."

"Ah, thank you."

"Don't burn yourself."

Lynn gulped, contorting her face in the process.

"God, sorry, I didn't mean...that was the wrong word. I need to be more sensitive, don't--"


"No, it's...fine."

"It is, Lynn. You're right. Everything's going to be fine."

After Lynn finished her cider, Charlene led her to the guest bedroom. The baby pink, silken walls beckoned Lynn. They reminded her of her sister's nursery--or what it had been. Lynn beheld all the perfectly positions books and trinkets. A ceramic dolphin, rising up from sparkling ceramic foam, winked at her as she stepped into the quiet space. Even the ivory pillows seemed to invite her. Somehow, the lace lining the pillow's soft borders seemed to wave at her. Then she noticed a brown bear in a dress and sunhat on one of the shelves. Its head was cocked as it admired the watering can in its paws. Lynn furrowed her brow but eased into a smile only a moment later.

"It's a pretty room, Charlene," Lynn murmured. 

"Oh, you don't have to flatter me. Just make yourself comfortable while I go search for a phone."

"No, I should come with you."

"Are you sure? Shouldn't you rest?"

"Okay, but then stay here. Please. I don't want to be alone."

"No, that's...I mean, okay, but not the whole day, either."

"Well, you don't have to stay in this room, but somewhere in the house, please. Just so I know you're here."

"Of course." Charlene wrung her hands and looked off at the teddy bear on the bookshelf. "How about I make us some cornbread? Nice and warm and moist."

Lynn stroked the edge of the bed. "Why, I'd love that. Thanks, Charlene."

Charlene smiled and darted to the kitchen. She suddenly seemed to be in a hurry. She clinked a few cups as she clattered through a cupboard. Somewhere in a distant part of the house, Lawrence barked. Meanwhile, Lynn alternated between gulping cider and biting her nails. She tried not to look at the teddy bear.

When Charlene returned, Lynn lied curled in a fetal position on the cold bed.

"Try and go to sleep."

"My eyes ache."

"That's why you should sleep."

"Where's Lawrence?"


"He was barking at something. Probably a squirrel or rabbit that he saw out of the sewing room window."

"Ah. Can I have him?"

"I'll bring him in a bit. Relax. Just go to sleep. You've had a long day."

"What about the phone?"

"I'll worry about that."


"But I need to know. I need to tell them. I'm not sure what happened and I don't want them to think--"

"Lynn, you're a wreck. Please--"

"Who are you to tell me that I'm a wreck?"

"Listen to yourself--"

Lynn sprung up into the doorway, only inches away from Charlene. "I am listening to myself and I'm making complete sense. Take me to a telephone. Now. Please."

Charlene shoved the tray toward Lynn, who jumped.

"Fine. I'll take you to a phone. I'll do the best I can. But if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. You'll just have to accept that."

"I can do that." Lynn seized the tray and set it on the night table. "Let's go."

"Well, get your coat first. I don't need you dying of hypothermia. Imagine that--two chipper stories for your folks."

Lynn wiggled into her coat and followed Charlene into the foggy night. 

Charlene tried starting up her car with no luck. After several efforts to wake the lethargic engine, she told Lynn that they would have to walk.

"What's life without adventure?" Lynn asked wearily. 

Charlene did not answer.

The snow sparkled like crystal dishware in a rich person's home. Lynn imagined an elegant white woman with lavender bags beneath her soft green eyes stroking a Persian cat at her dining room table. That same woman plucked pistachios and dried apricot from a crystal bowl, like it was just any old bowl. What she saw as a snack was a fancy appetizer to anyone else.

As Charlene trudged onward, Lynn pictured that same lady perched over a grand piano in a marble-tiled lobby in an exotic land. Something silky and jazzy played in the background, but Lynn could not see the pianist, not even a pair of hands at the keys. Then Lynn thought about her own piano and how it was gone. She sniffed and rubbed her eye, hopping into Charlene's footprints to prevent herself from sinking in the snow. Every now and then, instead of hearing a crunch, she heard a growl. Lynn looked around, certain that a dog or fox was on their trail, but the women were alone. Not even other neighbors were outside.

Hours passed as the silver evening darkened. Charlene knocked on door after door. Lynn watched mournfully as her neighbor kicked and cursed at every pay phone she tried.

After an eternity, Lynn shrugged her shoulders and said, "Let's go back to your place, Charlene."

"Why?"

"Let's go. I'm done. We're not making any progress here. My family will be back by the time we find a phone."

"We could walk to the fire station."

"What good would that do? My house is gone."


"Yeah, but their phone must work there."


"If it doesn't work here, why would it work downtown?"

"I don't know, Lynn, but we have to try."


"I'm not walking ten miles through the snow. Let's go. Please."

Charlene nodded and took her gloved hand. They retraced their steps in silence.

Only a couple of streets before the women had reached Charlene's house, however, someone came bounding toward them. They could not tell who or what until the man stopped right in front of them. It was Mr. Sawyers, the local park director.

"Jude!" Charlene exclaimed.

"Hi, Charlene. Did you hear the news?"

"What news? It's not like the radio works."

"There's a bear."

"A bear?"

"Yeah, a bear somehow got into Fredericksburg. The rumor is that it walked here from Lake Anna."

"No!"

"Yes. One of the rangers told me he saw the bear earlier today."

"How'd he get in touch with you?"

"Walky-talky."


"Oh." Charlene sighed and threw up her hands. "We've been looking for a phone all over."


"No, none of the phones work around here. But you heard me, right?"

"Yeah, there's a bear on the loose," Lynn said.

"Don't sound so blasé about it," Jude shouted. "Think about what he could do! He could kill somebody."

"Come on," Charlene said, "It's a black bear, right? A harmless Eastern black bear. We're not talking about a grizzly here."

"Still. When's the last time you saw a bear in the city?"

Neither woman said anything, but for different reasons.

"I'm going to round up a few other rangers and we're going to get it. We don't need a wild animal on top of this storm. We're putting up with enough already."

Charlene and Lynn exchanged good-byes with Mr. Sawyer and headed back to Charlene's house.

After the journey, Lynn slunk into Charlene's bed. She wanted to dissolve into the mattress and forget the whole day. Instead, she could think of nothing but flames and burnt memories. Lynn inched from one side of the bed to the other in distress. She ached in all the mundane parts of her body she had forgotten existed. Eventually she slept. And when she slept, she dreamt.

Lynn was her ten-year-old self, galloping down a sidewalk, waving an unidentifiable object in her pudgy hand. The object was black and warped. It glinted beneath the streetlights. Lynn stopped for a moment under one of the lamps and twisted the object. It gleamed and glowed. She continued running, darting between alleyways and periodically bending over to pick up another object. Every object she collected was different yet shared one characteristic: none of them looked like anything in particular. She regaled at the sight of a squiggly copper-colored object and cheered when she found a balled-up red thing. Soon enough, her arms were full of strange objects. Lynn could no longer run.

She plopped down in the middle of the cracked sidewalk. The panels started to rumble like glowering tectonic plates. Lynn rode the tremors and vibrations undisturbed. The objects so consumed her that she did not notice the way the earth shifted her from one end of the neighborhood to the other. By the time her journey ended, Lynn stood up and faced a big brick wall. She seized the first object and threw it against the bumpy surface. The object broke in two. She threw the next object, too, and it shattered like a bad luck mirror. When she threw the third object, it melted. Lynn gasped at every response.

Eventually, Lynn had thrown everything. The ground was still shaking, but this fact did not seem to phase her. She scooped up the remnants of her objects from the ground and hugged them. Eels squished out her embrace and bounced against the pavement. They cooed and hissed all at once. Lynn stepped back, but the eels soon disappeared. They dove deep into the pavement, as if it were water. Lynn, too, attempted to dive into the pavement, but it rejected her touch. Head bowed, she turned away and began wandering the city streets.

All the colors changed to purplish hues. Then red. Then orange. She whistled and the wind whistled back. No one else roamed the streets. All visible cars remained dark and parked. Lynn stumbled across a silver can of paint on the ground. Because it lacked a label, Lynn had no idea what color it contained. She sprayed the tip of her hair. The paint was auburn. Lynn pressed hard on the button and sprayed the dumpster in front of her. But instead of turning red, the dumpster stayed its gross green self. Lynn shook the can and tried again. The dumpster was an unwilling chameleon.

Lynn dropped the can and walked deeper into the ghetto. That's when she heard a low growling. She turned a corner and saw a furry rump, but the rump disappeared. When Lynn rounded the next corner, saw a pair of furry ears, but they too vanished. Rounding the next corner yielded paws. Next she saw a black nose. After that, paws. Everything disappeared almost as soon as she had seen it.

When Lynn escaped the labyrinth, she found herself in her kitchen. The mysterious, warped objects she had found earlier in her dream were sitting on her counter. Lynn went over to look at them when a sound outside caught her attention. She looked up. There was a black bear chewing on the parts of her air unit. Lynn yelled at it, but the bear paid her no mind. She kept yelling and yelling until sparks flew from the unit. The bear backed away for an instant, and then charged at the unit. He seized a hunk of the unit in his jaw. More sparks flew. Then sparks turned into flames and flames grew into a full fire. Lynn tried to yell, but nothing came out of her throat. An invisible force pushed her to the back of her kitchen. Flying off of the counter, the warped objects pinned Lynn to the wall. No matter how she moved, she could not get free. The flames moved closer and closer to her, faster than she expected. Lynn did not even see the flames go from the yard to the kitchen. Right before the flames reached her, though, Lynn woke up.

She did not sleep at all for the rest of the night, despite the comforts that surrounded her. She listened to the sounds of hooting owls and falling snow instead.

The next morning, Charlene rapped softly on Lynn's door.

"Yes?"

"Breakfast. Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really."

"How come?"

"My stomach hurts. And my eyes...my eyes still ache. I should rest them."

"It'll be a light breakfast. You should eat something, Lynn."

Lynn didn't answer for a while, but when she did, she promised to be down soon. Begrudgingly, she wrapped Charlene's baby blue robe around her shivering body. She was grateful for the fleece fabric, but somewhat disturbed that she would look like a walking clump of lint. Lynn wanted to look more polished than a woman whose house has just burnt down should look. She brushed her hair, splashed water on her face, and even applied some of the magenta lipstick sitting on the dresser. When the teddy bear on the bookshelf caught her eye, Lynn scrunched up her face and walked to the dining room.

Charlene wasn't anywhere in sight. A bowl of cold cereal greeted Lynn from its place on the dark wood table with its forest green table cloth. The bowl was jade with sweet blue flowers. Lynn crept up to the table and, still standing, gazed at the star-shaped flakes.

The cereal began to vibrate. The milk remained mysteriously still. Lynn fixated on one of the flakes, but it refused to stay in one place for too long. Soon all of the flakes swirled to the center of the bowl in a single sweep. They clumped together to form sugar-covered walls and a sharp roof. Lynn studied the miniature chimney and windows shaped like flared nostrils for only an instant before she recognized her house. Every bump and brick stood in place, exactly where she remembered. A few flakes bubbled up from under the milk's surface, piling into a little tree. It was Lynn's tree, the mighty sycamore that held her swing and the family bird-feeder. More flakes emerged from the milk and added structure to the petite yard where Lynn grew up.

Finally, Lynn saw her whole yard rendered in cereal. Before she could even begin to cry, it disappeared. She collapsed in the chair before her. When she looked up from her hands, the bowl caught on fire. She screamed. Lynn turned over the bowl, spilling milk and cereal all over the table. Flames crept out from under the bowl and licked the tablecloth. The bear's growl rumbled throughout the room.

"Stop it! Leave me alone, why don't you!"

Lynn yanked the tablecloth, hoping that the bowl would come down with it. But it stayed in place, as obtrusively as a peacock squawking in a bank lobby.

Then Lynn pushed the bowl, hit the bowl, and even tried to break the bowl, but the flames remained. The cereal she had dumped on the table scurried to form that little abode on 25th Street she knew too well. It gradually faded into a simple pile of cereal, but did not take long to re-build the little roof, little windows, and little porch that had haunted Lynn for the past sixteen hours. All the while, she heard the bear's growl grow louder.

Lynn's eyes began to ache as if sprayed by bleach. She clutched her face in agony, wrinkles burrowing in places they had never before burrowed. The little house, with its petite windows for pupils, gazed upon the bleeding woman. Blood stained her fingers.

"Go away!" she shrieked.

Suddenly, Lynn's eyes rolled out of her sockets and onto the table. The eyes left slimy trails as they journeyed farther from their owner. From what Lynn heard interrupting her stunned silence, every movement made the eyes squish and sag. She started panting more and more with every squish and sag. Pwuck. Pwish. Pwuck. Pwish. Pwuck. Pwish. On and on and on. Finally, they landed in the middle of the table and spun in place, splattering juice every which way.

A second after Lynn fainted, the bowl's fire hissed in triumph. Lynn was a heap split between her chair and the dining room table.

Charlene had just finished speaking to the fire department. She leaned over the banister and called to her neighbor downstairs, "Lynn, the phone's working again!"

All she heard in response was the beeping of the microwave in the kitchen. Her morning ramen was done.

Charlene walked downstairs to the dining room and tapped Lynn on one of her slumped shoulders. 

"Lynn," she whispered, "wake up. The fire department thinks they know what caused your fire. They found bear teeth outside your home."

Lawrence barked from the sewing room.