Devon hunched over the steering wheel as a million tiny white planets sped past her windshield. At least, that\u2019s what they reminded her of; driving through a blizzard felt like piloting the Millennium Falcon at warp speed. Except on this quiet highway, kilometres from the nearest town in the pitch dark, Devon was more worried about black ice on the asphalt than rogue asteroids. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201c… You\u2019re listening to 93.3 FM. That was Highway to Hell by ACDC \u2013 and speaking of highways! The roads are getting rough out there. I hope you\u2019ve got those winter tires fitted. How \u2018bout you, Ben? Has your wife made you put chains on your minivan yet \u2026 ?<\/em>\u201d Devon tuned out the radio as the two hosts joked about the cold. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It was always cold this end of January. But when the sun abandoned you at four o\u2019clock every day and the minus-thirty chill set in, there wasn\u2019t much else to <\/em>talk about. Except for the northern lights, now invisible in the blizzard. But those were the last thing on heaven or Earth, Horatio, than Devon dared to think about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A trail of green-blue convulsing lights followed the spinning Toyota tires as Devon sped down the snow-blurred road. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Finally, her phone GPS, which had been quiet for an hour of straight highway, bleeped to life. \u201cIn one kilometre, turn right on Alberta Road Highway 609, then continue straight for fifteen kilometres.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n She was almost there. She felt the magnetic pull as she turned toward what used to be Home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The house was freezing. Devon pulled on the metal doorknob, searing the top layer of her palm, and stepped inside. Her breath puffed out in front of her. \u201cJesus,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Memory found the switch on the wall, flooding the landing in yellow light. Their old family portrait confronted her: her mom, dad, her, and her brother. Matching denim; permed hair. Her father had a moustache. Her brother grinned his usual, mischievous grin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She missed that grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon went straight to the thermometer and switched the heat from sixteen to twenty-two. Then, she returned to her car and unloaded her bag and the handful of McDonald’s trash from the back seat. She locked the doors more out of habit than necessity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The fridge was nearly empty except for a half jar of olives and mustard. She slammed the door shut and settled on the couch, wrapping herself in an old quilt and laying back on the dusty cushions. She wasn\u2019t ready to face the rest of the rooms just yet. Not while it still felt like he was here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She breathed in the dust because, beneath that, it still smelled like him. And when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his hand in hers, frail as it was in those last days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2026 He waited until Mom and Dad stepped out for coffees. \u201cLook for the lights, Dev,\u201d he rasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She thought it was another delusion brought on by the chemo meds. But he grasped her fingers and stared with sharp awareness. \u201cThe lights you\u2019ve spent your life looking at. Follow them. They\u2019re yours now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll go back to work once you\u2019re better,\u201d she assured him. But they both knew he wouldn\u2019t get better. And part of her also knew he didn\u2019t mean her research. It was that power he\u2019d hidden. He was passing it on to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shook his head fervently, but then he fell back into the pillows. \u201cFollow the lights,\u201d he whispered, and it was the last thing her brother ever said to her\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n Aurora borealis. Devon had studied Solar storms since her undergrad. Northern lights came when the Earth\u2019s magnetic field captured the sun\u2019s electrically charged particles. The gases in the atmosphere give off different coloured lights when they\u2019re excited, making the northern sky look like a glowstick dance party. When they were kids, her brother would drag her out of bed in the middle of the night, wrap her in a blanket and boots, and run outside in the freezing air to stare up at the twisting lights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey\u2019re magic,\u201d he\u2019d say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But later, she\u2019d insist they were science.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Sunday greeted Devon with biting cold and trees heavy-laden with sparkling hoarfrost. Devon pulled on her four layers and stepped outside, blinking through her white-tipped eyelashes. That was one thing about winter here \u2013 you didn\u2019t dare cry, or you\u2019d peel tear-shaped icicles from your cheeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The plough had already gone through the town streets, leaving five-foot-tall snow drifts on either side of the cleared path and daring street parkers to locate their car before spring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon found herself trudging toward the bus shed at the other end of town, encountering no one else on the way. She stuck the key in the frozen lock and jimmied it for a few seconds before the entire garage door slid up to reveal the plump yellow thirty-seater bus. Frost obscured the windows. She didn\u2019t know how long she stood there, staring at the slumbering, dandelion-coloured beast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d a voice said behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon half jumped out of her snowsuit in her shock. She\u2019d been too trapped in her own thoughts to hear the crunching of boots. She eyed the small figure in a thin winter coat. The boy didn\u2019t even have gloves or a toque on. His cheeks and nose were bright red and probably frostbitten. \u201cIt\u2019s freezing out here. Where are your parents?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kid shrugged. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m\u2026 the new bus driver,\u201d she said in answer to his first question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat happened to Mister Swan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon\u2019s voice froze. \u201cHe\u2026 I\u2019m Ms Swan. I\u2019m \u2013 was \u2013 his sister.\u201d His job, their parents’ old house. Something beyond her science drew her back here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh,\u201d said the boy. Unlike an adult, who might pick up on the subtleties of human conversation, the kid moved on. \u201cThey say tomorrow will be a snow day. It\u2019s too cold for the buses to run.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho says?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He shrugged again. A stray trail of green sludge was making its viscous trek from his nostril to his top lip. Devon didn\u2019t know much about kids, but she was certain this one was too old to leave a runny nose uninterrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou don\u2019t seem too excited,\u201d she observed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another shrug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMost kids would love to have a snow day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The boy\u2019s eyes dropped. He kicked at a patch of dirty snow. \u201cI like school. It\u2019s better than home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon eyed the kid\u2019s lack of snow gear again. \u201cWhere are your parents?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s just me and my stepmom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere\u2019s she?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon resisted the urge to look at her watch. Instead, she turned back to the frozen bus thoughtfully. She felt a little spark. It was the spark she\u2019d been avoiding. Now, it felt like a battery jumpstart. Aurora borealis.<\/em> \u201cI\u2019ll tell you what, kid. I reckon I can get that bus started for you tomorrow. What d\u2019ya think?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes lit up. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Devon smiled as a twitch of green light sparked at the end of her fingertips and danced in her eyes. \u201cReally.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Devon half jumped out of her snowsuit in her shock. She\u2019d been too trapped in her own thoughts to hear the crunching of boots. She eyed the small figure in a thin winter coat. The boy didn\u2019t even have gloves or a toque on. His cheeks and nose were bright red and probably frostbitten. \u201cIt\u2019s freezing out here. Where are your parents?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1929,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"episode_type":"","audio_file":"","cover_image":"","cover_image_id":"","duration":"","filesize":"","date_recorded":"","explicit":"","block":"","filesize_raw":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9,360],"tags":[361,198,366,15,224,156,364,363,242,332,362,80,163],"series":[],"class_list":["post-1785","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fantasy","category-modern","tag-aurora-borealis","tag-canada","tag-cold","tag-fantasy","tag-fiction","tag-grief","tag-ice","tag-loss","tag-magic","tag-modern-fantasy","tag-northern-lights","tag-short-story","tag-winter"],"episode_featured_image":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/4.png","episode_player_image":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/wp-content\/plugins\/seriously-simple-podcasting\/assets\/images\/no-album-art.png","download_link":"","player_link":"","audio_player":false,"episode_data":{"playerMode":"dark","subscribeUrls":{"amazon":{"key":"amazon","url":"https:\/\/music.amazon.ca\/podcasts\/09c34bbc-b359-49af-a286-31830ed5634c\/short-stories","label":"Amazon","class":"amazon","icon":"amazon.png"},"apple_podcasts":{"key":"apple_podcasts","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.apple.com\/us\/podcast\/short-stories\/id1621456328","label":"Apple Podcasts","class":"apple_podcasts","icon":"apple-podcasts.png"},"google_play":{"key":"google_play","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.google.com\/feed\/aHR0cHM6Ly9hbGV4aXN2ZWVuZW5kYWFsLmNvbS9mZWVkL3BvZGNhc3Qvc2hvcnQtc3Rvcmllcw","label":"Google Play","class":"google_play","icon":"google-play.png"},"google_podcasts":{"key":"google_podcasts","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.google.com\/feed\/aHR0cHM6Ly9hbGV4aXN2ZWVuZW5kYWFsLmNvbS9mZWVkL3BvZGNhc3Qvc2hvcnQtc3Rvcmllcw","label":"Google Podcasts","class":"google_podcasts","icon":"google-podcasts.png"},"spotify":{"key":"spotify","url":"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/show\/0lcQCRs52MfYlKs35lVX4K","label":"Spotify","class":"spotify","icon":"spotify.png"},"itunes":{"key":"itunes","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.apple.com\/us\/podcast\/short-stories\/id1621456328","label":"iTunes","class":"itunes","icon":"itunes.png"}},"rssFeedUrl":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/feed\/podcast\/default-podcast","embedCode":"
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\n\n\n\nStudying Auroras<\/a><\/blockquote>