He told me to leave so I left. Said he was done so I filed. Wanted me back so he changed the locks. But he loves me so when I ask he says, “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Either she will look up and see me capturing this scant handful of seconds in the long clock of her life or a chime struck centuries ago will break her concentration.

Thomas Leuthard / Foter.com / CC BY

Trifecta Week 101 Writing Challenge entry. 33 words or less on the above photo prompt.

“Just remember, life is like a box of chocolates.” … “You know, they’ve got these chocolate assortments, and you like some but you don’t like others? And you eat all the ones you don’t like as much? I always think about that when something painful comes up. ‘Now just polish these off, and everything’ll be OK.’ Life is a box of chocolates.”

–Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

“I found the tracks in the deep snow between the trees. That was the first sign something wasn’t right.”

It was Keith’s twelfth season doing backcountry Pro Patrol on Mount Baker. The second day the lifts were open, a group of Canadians went down the backside of Baker for more pristine powder. Now two of them were gone and the rest of the group was hospitalized. Keith had spent the day at Providence trying to get their stories but none of them would talk.

“The first sign?”

Doug was a few years younger than Keith. Fresh off his rookie years with Washington State Patrol, it was his first season assigned to the ski area. He was annoyed he had to drive an hour south to Everett to meet up with Keith at the hospital.

“Normally there are wells around the trees. Branches break the snow from falling around the trunk so you end up with these pockets. When trees are close together the pockets basically join up. There shouldn’t have been any snow, much less deep snow, where they disappeared,” Keith explained.

Doug nodded and jotted some notes down.

“Ski tracks, right?” Doug asked.

“Not exactly,” Keith replied slowly.

“No, no, no, no,” Doug said and shook his head.

“No way in hell am I investigating a Yeti sighting,” Doug said.

Keith shrugged. It’d taken him a decade to believe Yetis made their home in the Cascades. He still felt a little dumb about it but the past two years had convinced him beyond a doubt.

“The fact that none of the rescued party is talking is the second sign,” Keith said.

“They’re in shock. Happens,” Doug said and flipped his notebook to a new page.

“No. They’re embarrassed. I know. I’ve been there. I don’t expect to get anything out of them for another month or so. Someone will get drunk at a party and start talking,” Keith said.

Doug turned his back to Keith and studied a framed print on the wall. Several moments passed before Keith peered over Doug’s shoulder to see what held his attention. A banquet scene with fancy ladies and guys in tights. A man in a pink robe offered a plate of oranges to a woman with a very long ponytail. Probably something Catholic.

“Hunh. I just noticed the falcon. Or is it a hawk?” Doug leaned in closer.

Keith turned to leave the waiting room.

“And the third sign, Sherlock?” Doug asked.

Keith laughed.

“I know, I know. Yetis. Ridiculous. Believe me, I held out as long as I could but it was either Yetis or aliens or something else. I’m going with Yetis,” Keith said.

Doug coughed to cover up a laugh. He nodded at Keith to continue.

“The third sign – and it’s the same with the disappearances the past two years – is one male and one female goes missing. All of them were – or are – twenty-one years old. And it’s usually their idea to go off the groomed trails.”

“Darwinism,” Doug muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Keith asked.

“I’d say that’s coincidence more than a pattern. I’m sure you used to go off trail all the time,” Doug said.

“Yeah but I also had a family that’d wonder where I was if I went missing. Nobody asks about these kids,” Keith said.

“We could have started with that,” Doug snapped at Keith.

Doug glanced over his notes.

“So let me see if I can put this together. The deep snow between the trees is some kind of Yeti snow fort. The kids are Yetis who walk among us then round up their pals for a ski trip. After introductions are made, they rejoin their Yeti family. Then there’s a new crop of Yeti believers to keep the dream alive?”

“Uhhhh. Something like that. I guess?” Keith replied.

“Then why am I standing in a hospital? How’d the others get hurt?” Doug asked.

“Self-sustained injuries. Slipping and falling when they were trying to get out of there.”

“Right,” Doug said and snapped his notebook shut.

Doug pulled a card from his breast pocket and handed it to Keith.

“If you think of anything else, please, give me a call,” Doug told him and left.

Keith studied the print on the wall.

“It’s a hawk. Anyone can see that.”

This week’s Yeah Write Speakeasy Challenge