This'll show them...

Okay, so I know I haven't been posting, but I seem to have loads of free time up here in Idaho, so I figured I'd pop in and see how everyone was doing here at the Chupacabra Can't Be Stopped site, and it appears that the Chupacabra can indeed be stopped. Apparently, according to a recent post, ain't no one been posting but Euclid and Oz. So, in an effort to show those two that they're not pulling all the weight, I'm gonna add another story to the list here. This here's called 2012. I've tried to hint at the story without slapping you with it. I hate it when people spell out a plot with all the subtlety of a turd in a punch bowl, but I also hate the whole "too subtle" thing. Tell me where I fall with this one.

Outside the snow is falling. It's beautiful, really.

It starts out slowly, a few fitful flakes drifting down, covering the dead grass in a blanket of white. After the harsh cold has come and left the world in a dead, gray state, the white seems like renewal.

After a few moments, it starts to come harder now, the snow sticking to the ground now. The wind picks up a little, scattering the snow across the landscape.

A few office buildings stand stolidly against the steadily increasing storm, picking up beards of frost that make their windows twinkle in the dark.

Below, puddles start to freeze over, setting traps for unsteady revelers coming out from an evening of celebration. But no one slips on the ice. Happy New Year.

It is the first snowfall of the new year, but the night is still. No revelers are popping fresh bottles of champagne. No children are rushing outside to catch flakes on their tongue.

The stores are empty as well; shuttered up for the evening. The snow falls faster, three inches on the ground now and rising.

The snow starts to glaze over the windshields of the few cars still remaining in the streets, but there are no drivers behind the windshields. No one curses at the change in weather. No one reaches down to flick their wipers on. No one turns up the heat.

The snow falls harder, six inches now.

The windshields are entirely obscured by snow now, but the cars are already stopped, and there are no flashing lights or wailing sirens to warn other drivers that tragedy has already struck.

The snow falls, unheeded on the crazy patchwork of cars tangled into nonsensical patterns of wreckage on the streets. Happy New Year.

Outside, the snow is falling. It's beautiful, really.