The Storm
I’ve been quietly working on a novel called Where the Light Is for a long time now. This week, I wanted to share the opening scene for the first time. Enjoy!
“Last night was really fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
She looked over and smiled.
Snow hissed beneath the tires as the windshield wipers swept across the glass. Wes adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
“What was your favorite part?”
She pretended to think about it.
“The eye contact.”
Wes laughed softly.
“That’s your answer?”
“We’ve always been good at that.”
The truck drifted slightly as they rounded a bend. Wes stiffened and eased his foot off the gas.
“You’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”
“Sorry.” He leaned forward slightly in his seat, peering through the blowing snow. “Roads are worse than I thought.”
“You hate driving this thing in winter.”
“I hate driving this thing, period.”
That got a smile out of her.
Ahead of them, a snowplow crawled through the storm, spraying white into the air.
Wes exhaled through his nose.
“We’re never making dinner at this rate.”
“My parents will survive.”
“There’s a passing lane coming up.”
“Wes.”
“What?”
“You hate driving this truck in the snow.”
The Ranger shifted beneath them again as if proving her point.
She smiled faintly and rested a hand on his leg.
“Slow and steady, Mr. Weaver.”
Wes flicked on the signal.
The engine groaned as he eased into the other lane.
For a moment, everything held.
Then the rear tires slipped.
Not much.
Just enough.
Wes felt his stomach drop.
The steering wheel suddenly felt weightless in his hands.
The truck slid sideways across the road.
“Oh my God”
He corrected hard.
Too hard.
The world turned.
Headlights.
Snow.
The plow disappearing behind them.
Then they were facing backward, staring directly into the oncoming lane.
Wes heard himself apologizing before the truck even hit the ditch.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
The rear tires slammed into the snowbank.
Metal groaned.
Everything flipped.
*****
The ringing in Wes’ ears faded slowly.
Coffee dripped from the ceiling onto the dashboard.
Blueberries and pieces of waffle were smeared across the windshield.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Wes looked up.
She hung upside down beside him, suspended by the seatbelt.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”
She blinked a few times before answering.
“Yeah.”
But she wouldn’t look at him fully.
“I think I hit my head.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Her voice sounded far away.
Even hanging inches apart, he’d never felt farther away from her.
*****
“Welcome back, Mr. Weaver.”
The voice came from somewhere behind him.
Wes opened his eyes slowly.
Everything felt cold.
His tongue was coated in something thick and unnaturally sweet.
Slowly, the room came into focus. Wires hung from the ceiling above him. Monitors flickered softly in the dark.
A man stepped forward and removed the mask from Wes’ face.
Tall. Lean. Grey threaded through his beard.
“Do you remember my name?”
Wes swallowed.
“…Voss?”
“Dr. Voss.”
The man glanced toward one of the monitors.
“Not bad for your first immersion.”
Wes shifted instinctively and felt the harness tighten around his chest.
He looked down.
The floor sat several feet beneath him.
His heart was still hammering in his chest.
“What was that?”
“A memory.”
“No,” Wes said quietly. “I know what a memory is.”
Voss studied him for a moment.
“How do you feel?”
Wes laughed weakly.
“What kind of question is that?”
“The important kind.”
Wes rubbed his face.
“It was just an accident.”
Voss glanced at one of the monitors.
“Nobody got hurt,” Wes added.
A pause.
“She was fine.”
Voss finally looked up.
“Were you?”
Continue Reading
What stood out to you most in this opening scene?
I think a lot of us have moments in our lives that seem small from the outside but quietly change the way we move through the world.
This scene came from one of those moments for me.
Where the Light Is is a story about memory, guilt, identity, and what happens when we confuse self-erasure for love.
If this piece resonated with you, feel free to share it with someone who might connect with it. And if you’d like to follow along as I continue writing and sharing pieces from the novel, you can subscribe below.