I write flash fiction, non-fiction, essays and novels. This month’s Tease is from a short story.
The lift rumbled forward once again. A newbie tripped trying to make the last ride, he figures. Graphite tinted clouds curl over the divide to the north. A good blow is coming for sure. Perhaps more rain than snow. He’s managed to stay dry, buttoning up the hilltop restaurant for the season’s end. Getting soaked now, just before driving home, would be annoying. With the old Land Cruiser’s weak defrost, he’d be wiping the windshield all the way back to Lolo.
The lift passes by an intermediate tower, bounding over its sheaves, vibrating his molars. After two decades of riding up in the morning and down in the afternoon, he knows those bumps like puddles in his driveway. Another season over, another year until he gets where he’s going, wherever that is. One thing he knows, flipping burgers at sixty-five hundred feet isn’t going to cut it much longer. He’s been telling himself that for twenty years, so it must be true.
He pulls his hat to his sideburns and his bearded chin to his chest. Dropping over the next cliff is a run called the Witch’s Broom, a black diamond rockslide that is more elevator shaft than ski slope. And it’s always windy. When the sleet comes, it’s like opening a freezer door.