1. Butterscotch

Night began to darken all around as the world closed in. The snowstorm hit more violently than predicted, and many people were struggling to get home. It wasn’t the type of snow to fall gracefully; that was the snow Degaston had grown accustomed to over the years. Instead, it froze hard all day long as the gray clouds loomed warily overhead. The wind, which had been still throughout the day, began a rampage as soon as sunset concealed the earth into a blackish fog. When night began to settle, the clouds let go. Without a moment’s notice the entire city had become enveloped by the heavy white flurry.
As the ferocity continued, many broke out into a dead run, hoping to beat the weather home. Much of what had fallen had already stuck hard to the ground, and as they ran the roads became more and more slick with ice. There were others who slowed their pace to help the elderly and young children, carrying them across their backs. The falling hail, for one could not possibly call it snow any longer, was blinding and too thick to make out the few dim street lamps that were lit. Instead, they provided a faint glow from the level of the rooftops, making the scene all the more surreal.
A young man who had been shopping the town’s general store was on his own way back to find his wife. They had been shopping together, getting extra supplies for the very reason that beat heavily on his head. Making his way through the street, which was nearing empty, he heard a child’s small cry.
“Hello? Are you there?” His voice was forceful, almost fierce with worry. He was certain that it had been a child, and he couldn’t bear that they would be out in the storm alone. Taking care not to trample over anyone, he inched toward the sound, begging softly for the child to speak.
“Who’s there? What is your name?” he called, asking as gently as possible. It seemed that he should raise his voice. The weather was blinding, and the patter of ice rapidly hitting the street was deafening.
The other voice made a whimper before replying, and then said weakly, “Danny.” Quickly, the child trembled, “Where’s mama?”
Danny’s hand came from seemingly out of nowhere, yet somehow they locked hands. The man was relieved, having been able to find and help this boy. Comfortingly, he encouraged Danny to come with him out of the storm. “Well, that’s what we’re going to find out, okay? Come with me, and we’ll hide in one of the shops here. Perhaps we can find the Sweet Shop and get some hot chocolate. Come on!”
He knew that if they didn’t both get inside now that they may not make it anywhere. Never in his life had he seen such horrible weather.


The large town held many people, and everyone had at least a vague idea as to who most everyone else was. There was a sense of community, built with heart and generosity, unlike any other. Now more than ever, their dependence on each other grew. Those shopping in town were stranded, and all store owners and town houses readily supplied shelter. Many shopkeepers simply lived on the top floor of their establishment, and the living district was not far away considering their relaxed way of life. With the weather ready for a small storm, it seemed easier to leave the car parked in the garage; icy roads are easier to walk. And so, everyone in town became stranded.
Somehow, through all the commotion, there was a small group of people naïve to the fact that a blizzard had begun. Inside the Rawls General Store a woman had suddenly fallen to her knees after realizing that there, in front of everyone, her water had broken. She knew that her baby was due within a month or more, but this baby chose to start as soon as the first snowflake had fallen. Al, who owned and ran the store day in and day out, ran straight to her side. Quickly, having been through this before, he picked her up cautiously and hurried her upstairs into his own bed.
“Where’s your husband?” he asked in his friendly-like tone.
“Bread,” she said in shock, trying to remember to breathe. She seemed more embarrassed or excited than anything. “Yours… costs too much. He went across the street.”
The old man cackled, amazed that her sense of humor was still in tact. After trying to make her comfortable, he hustled back down the stairs to find elderly women trying to clean up after the woman. As he continued down the stairs, muttering his thanks to the pair, he came face to face with a tall man, lean in stature, with dark skin and fading hair. The man, who was well known in town, was Myron Patterson. Luckily, Dr. Patterson was the most prestigious of doctors anyone in this town had ever met.
“The baby’s coming early?” he said, not without a hint of surprise.
Al looked at him, dumbfounded, and coolly said, “I think that’s what happened, yeah.”
The doctor shook himself off, trying not to seem concerned or say anything else in stupidity. Quickly, pointing towards the bedroom and dashing up the stairs, he asked, “May I?”
“Help yourself, Doc.” Thinking to himself, he was grateful, for the doctor had just relieved a whole lot of work from his shoulders. He walked back to his register, pulling out a crude flashlight and some candles. After pulling an old and worn lighter from his pocket and setting each wick on fire, he placed them miscellaneously about the room to help everyone see. The power had not gone out, but the store only had lights on the top floor. The sun, rain or shine, always came in through the window to provide customers with more than enough light.
However, now he feared that the power might blink out completely, and the heavy snow clouds blocked almost all outside light. He took one more candle, this time from the shelf, and took it up the stairs.
He first noticed the silence when he heard the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. It was a sound he knew all too well, but only when he was alone. The air suddenly was cold, and he could see his own breath disappear into it. As he reached his bedroom door, he could hear the squeak as the knob turned, and then the jolting of the lock. It was the same as every night that he went to bed, until he heard the doctor’s voice.
“Well, you’re nearly ready,” he was saying, “and you seem to be doing just fine. I have just one question for you… If you are able, that is.”
The woman smiled graciously, and looked toward him endearingly. “Of course you may ask questions. You just better know what to do with the answer. You are, after all, a doctor.”
Both bewildered and amazed, he stared down at her on the bed. Never had she shown any discomfort, save the embarrassment of having her water break on the floor of Al’s shop. She was in labor, and yet no questions, no screaming, she had not once complained. How could anyone be undergoing such a task without pain?, he wondered.
“Miss…” he began.
But she interrupted him. “Sir, you know I’m married. Have you forgotten my wedding so quickly?”
“Sorry, it’s hard to forget, but harder to accept. I’ve known you since you were so small… Forgive me. But I must ask; aren’t you, well- what I mean to say is, why aren’t you in excruciating pain?” He was even more skeptical because he had had to ask her. The situation seemed unreal.
Al had stopped in the doorway, completely understanding the concern of the doctor. His wife had given birth to three children, and each had been full of screams, tears, and exhaustion for both of them. Perhaps she was trying to be strong since her husband wasn’t near? He couldn’t decide. But something seemed completely out of place; she was hardly even sweating.
“No, there is no pain.” She was calm as she spoke, and gave a wry smile as if she knew something they did not. Glancing at Al, she continued, “Thank you kindly for letting us use your bed,” she touched her stomach with adoration. “I know it’s difficult for you.”
He smiled, generously. “You just do your job, ma’am,” he reminded her. “And make sure that baby’s good and healthy. Your husband should be here soon.” He couldn’t help but notice her rare beauty, and the entrancing way that she handled herself. The glow of a woman with child was always beautiful, but now her aura seemed to reach out and grab him. The gift of life was so close, and just as miraculously the gift of her child was painless so far.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice soft, loving. Al and Dr. Patterson looked at each other, uncertain of what to think.
“Butterscotch?”
Outstretching her hand, she held her palm up. Inside she had about half of a dozen hard candies, wrapped in gold. “I’m pregnant, after all. I do get cravings. This,” she paused, popping one into her mouth, “is my weapon of choice.”