The winter wind roared outside Jacobson's car like a mad television's white noise. Even at his reduced speed, visibility was virtually nonexistent and the duty of the wiper blades were pitifully inadequate at best. That was the thing about Ohio, if you didn't like the weather... wait a few minutes. Jacobson was hoping those few minutes would soon be up.
He thought back to the afternoon with Virginia, his ex-wife. They had discussed restructuring Jacobson's visitation right's with his daughter, Alicia. What had started out as a civil meeting had quickly escalated into the tired out routine of veiled threats and backhanded innuendoes. He had left with little accomplished, his return drive from his ex-wife's retreat to the boondocks made even less pleasant by the sudden blizzard.
Still aggravated, he took his eyes off the road just long enough to try and crank up the heater a bit farther. Long enough to miss the massive form that appeared before his lights. Long enough, so that when Jacobson looked up, he was almost upon it.
Swerving, he spun the car as he slammed onto the brakes, his car sliding hard into a snow filled ditch on the side of the county state route. Jacobson sat absolutely still for a moment. Then, once he realized he was fine, the anger erupted inside him. It was the same anger that had cost him his marriage, but he would never acknowledge that. All Jacobson knew at this moment was that some fool had wandered out in a snow storm, into the road and caused him to have an accident. Jacobson flung open his door and climbed out, unconcerned about the possibilities.
He had not got a good look at the person who had caused him to wreck, not really seen the individual standing in the blizzard with arms outstretched. Jacobson did now. He did now, and the anger that had fueled his movements chilled as surely as the air that surrounded him.
"Ah, such rage," Jacobson heard it speak. "Such rage makes me feel alive."
Jacobson stood there in the biting wind, the snow still obscuring the most of his view. For that he was grateful. For that, he thanked God.
"God? Oh, I could tell you tales of the heavens above and the depths below."
Stammering something incoherent, Jacobson began to take a step back. This was not a man. It was too large, too dark, too... something else. Some word that the English language didn't have, that no human had been tainted enough to think up. With a single step back, that before him took two forward.
Jacobson felt his bowels release.
"Let me tell you about that which you will understand. About atrocities, desecrations and other wonders. Let me whisper secrets to you about the what lies in the cold wind."
Before Jacobson could move, before he could think...
... and such secrets they were.
rating: 1
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