SNOWVENTURES: STUCK IN DANBURY IN AN UNUSUAL OCTOBER NOR’EASTER
The last time in my memory we had a storm like this here in the area where I grew up was in 1988. Although this storm has fouled not only my plans for the weekend but so many others’—my friend Stacey couldn’t go to a Duran Duran concert, my friend Lisa’s catered party is canceled, my friend Nanette’s party in the wilds of upstate New York will see fewer guests (she lives in a tiny town; those nearby can walk), we won’t be able to go cocktailing tonight, what would have been our last time after fifteen years, in our favorite cemetery—I’m no longer upset about it…in fact, the visual conflict between Poe Season and George Washington Season is magical and interesting.
I started chronicling the storm just for fun. Nathan was out trying to get last-minute supplies…and the storm hit early, leaving him stuck on the roads trying to get home (his harrowing tale on video below is definitely a don’t-miss). Our Mayor lost power (he put this on Twitter). I have to say something nice about our Mayor here: the man is ALWAYS on Twitter, and if you Tweet him, he answers. Very cool. Last I heard, he was sending trucks out to get people off the roads, as the roads are closing here to all but emergency personnel at 4 p.m.
So, where are we now? Nathan made it home. We’re stocked. We’re ready to lose power. And we’re enjoying the last of our Poe Season activities while there’s a GW Bday blizzard outside. Right now, we’re watching Halloween (the original), and we have The Haunting and a few others slated. Charles has a martini. Nathan has a glass ofTawnyPort. I have a bowl of wine. It feels like Halloween, and it feels like winter. It’s disorienting in a very Dali-esque way—and that’s something every horror/ghost story writer should keep in mind. It’s another unsettling current we can use to instill terror in our readers.
And I’ve discovered that sometimes it’s the contrast in things that makes life really interesting and takes the sting out of an otherwise huge disappointment.
Here’s some video and photos so far. Ah…New England in October. Time to write a ghost story…this one I’ll set in summer.
The first flakes of the storm begin falling, 12:04 p.m.
The first flakes begin to fall while the Cemetery of Dismembered Dolls huddles on the porch.
The snowfall increases while the bloody handprint keeps watch.
Nathan relates a harrowing tale of slipping, sliding, cars careening off the road, cars at dead stops, trees cracking—and transformers on fire.