Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows
Summary: Fate has a funny way of connecting people, but so do
memories. "Snow Angels" inspired this very short story.
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to their creators. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of
the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to
the writer of the Early Edition episode "Snow Angels".
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows
There was a boom, like the angry roar of a thunderstorm; only it
wasn't, before the skylight crashed and plummeted through the room.
The horror of the moment froze, slow motion, it seemed, as the
monster landed on top of Earl pinning him to the floor.
Gary knew that the tragedy was going to happen and had desperately
tried to change Earl's future that the Paper had scripted. But he
had failed. Again.
Earl appeared eerily calm, perhaps dazed by the pain and the
surrealism of what had just happened. The pain was merciless;
everything hurt. He was having trouble breathing. The homeless man
seemed shocked to see Gary.
"It stopped snowing." Earl confirmed.
Gary struggled, but was able to push the skylight off of Earl. Earl
screamed in pain. The beast had done much damage. Earl was bleeding
heavily from his stomach and he couldn't move his legs. Gary's
amateur diagnosis was that Earl's legs were broken.
The hero removed his scarf and pressed it against the wound hoping
that the pressure would control the bleeding. Surprisingly, Earl had
a cell phone that Gary used to call for help. Unfortunately, the
combination of the foul weather and technological snafu (the device
experienced a problem with a low battery) hindered any rescue efforts.
The victim grew quiet.
Gary had read somewhere once that you needed to keep a victim of
severe trauma awake to prevent them from lapsing into a coma. He
knew that he had to keep Earl talking so that the injured man
wouldn't fall asleep. He learned that Earl had been born right here
in Chicago, on the south side.
Earl's voice was faint. "Gary, it's cold." The man began, his voice
barely above a whisper. "It's a different kind of cold, like.like
I'm never going to get warm again. It's cold all the way to my
bones."
"Sure you can." Gary responded, reassuringly. "You know, when I was
a little kid. I used to love the snow. As soon as the first snow
fell, I'd be the first one to get out there and get my hands in it.
I'd stay in it for hours. And you know what? I was never cold until
that walk home. The thought of that walk home would make me cold.
But then, then, I'd remember that there would always be a cup of hot
chocolate waiting for me."
"With marshmallows?" Earl asked weakly.
"Yeah, that's right. I can still taste it."
"Me, too."
"Yeah? So whenever I'm cold, I think about that hot chocolate. You
see, that warms me up." Gary explained.
Despite his condition, Earl seemed to soak in Gary's words. "You
know what?" He said.
"What?"
"I...I can taste it."
* * * * * *
Chicago, South Side: Early 1970s
Old Man Winter had not waited to exhale before expelling a powerful
breath that dressed Chicago in a heavy blanket of snow. The powdery
precipitation wasn't winter's only largess; along with the snow came
frigid temperatures and the struggle for basic survival.
The tiny, careworn apartment with cracks weaving across the walls
like a spider's web, looked more like a casualty of war than a home.
The insidious landlord, an unsophisticated robber baron of sorts,
collected rent, but refused to make basic repairs on the premises.
The city appeared to have turned a blind eye to the malfeasance and
did nothing. There were no citations against the landlord for code
violations despite the complaints from the tenants. No investigators
came. People, packed in the tenement like rats, their bellies often
swelled with hunger, fought to cleave to their pride despite such
dismal circumstances.
The cold filtered in through the small opening in the kitchen
window. She had tried stuffing the opening with rags, but that did
little to keep out the conquering, bitter cold. She and her son sat
in their layers of clothing, shivering. They felt the cold right
through to their bones.
The kettle whistled. A moment later, the steaming water was added
to two cups that sat idly on the table. The hot chocolate smelled
rich and inviting.
Young Earl watched in eager anticipation as his mother removed the
marshmallows from the cupboard. Mom always added marshmallows to his
hot chocolate. The first sip always stung his lips, but Earl didn't
care. The pain was worth it. The taste of hot chocolate with
marshmallows made him forget how cold he was. Mom smiled at him as
he drank the brew.
In a way, it wasn't just the hot chocolate with marshmallows that
warmed him up inside, but Mom's smile as well. She never cried,
cursed their fate, nor blamed anyone for the kind of life that they
led. She clung to her faith in God and her love for her son. That
love was rich and wonderful.
They were poor, but what she couldn't give him in material
possessions, she made up in abundance of love. Wherever life took
him, Earl would always know that.
* * * * * *
Hickory, Indiana- Early 1970s
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and hurried towards his bedroom
window, mud green eyes sparkling with eager anticipation. The
weatherman had predicted snow last night and the predication had come
true. Mountains of snow covered the sleepy town.
School was closed today, so Young Gary looked forward to hours of
playing in the snow. The little boy charged down the stairs. His
mother's doting couldn't stifle his youthful exuberance; Gary was
fidgety as Lois bundled him up in his hat, scarf, gloves, and coat.
To a child, his mother's attention seemed to have lasted for an
eternity, but it was actually a few moments before he opened the door
and went outside.
Gary lay on the ground moving his arms and legs in an animated
fashion. Out of his movement, a beautiful snow angel emerged.
He played outside for hours. More snow angels resulted from his
efforts. Later, he joined a few neighborhood kids in a contest to
make snow people. The snow person that looked suspiciously
like "Miss Flowers" won first prize.
As he walked home, the little boy felt very cold. But as soon as he
Gary opened the front door, the smell of hot chocolate with
marshmallows assaulted his nostrils.
It didn't take him long before he sat down at the kitchen table. The
first sip always stung his lips, but Gary didn't care. The pain was
worth it. The taste of hot chocolate with marshmallows made him
forget how cold he was. Mom smiled at him as he drank the brew.
Whatever road he would travel in his life, Gary Hobson would always
remember those snow angels, Mom's smile, and hot chocolate with
marshmallows.
The End
Summary: Fate has a funny way of connecting people, but so do
memories. "Snow Angels" inspired this very short story.
Disclaimer: Early Edition characters belong to their creators. No
copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made. Some of
the dialogue that appears in this story is not my own, but belongs to
the writer of the Early Edition episode "Snow Angels".
Author: Tracy Diane Miller
E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows
There was a boom, like the angry roar of a thunderstorm; only it
wasn't, before the skylight crashed and plummeted through the room.
The horror of the moment froze, slow motion, it seemed, as the
monster landed on top of Earl pinning him to the floor.
Gary knew that the tragedy was going to happen and had desperately
tried to change Earl's future that the Paper had scripted. But he
had failed. Again.
Earl appeared eerily calm, perhaps dazed by the pain and the
surrealism of what had just happened. The pain was merciless;
everything hurt. He was having trouble breathing. The homeless man
seemed shocked to see Gary.
"It stopped snowing." Earl confirmed.
Gary struggled, but was able to push the skylight off of Earl. Earl
screamed in pain. The beast had done much damage. Earl was bleeding
heavily from his stomach and he couldn't move his legs. Gary's
amateur diagnosis was that Earl's legs were broken.
The hero removed his scarf and pressed it against the wound hoping
that the pressure would control the bleeding. Surprisingly, Earl had
a cell phone that Gary used to call for help. Unfortunately, the
combination of the foul weather and technological snafu (the device
experienced a problem with a low battery) hindered any rescue efforts.
The victim grew quiet.
Gary had read somewhere once that you needed to keep a victim of
severe trauma awake to prevent them from lapsing into a coma. He
knew that he had to keep Earl talking so that the injured man
wouldn't fall asleep. He learned that Earl had been born right here
in Chicago, on the south side.
Earl's voice was faint. "Gary, it's cold." The man began, his voice
barely above a whisper. "It's a different kind of cold, like.like
I'm never going to get warm again. It's cold all the way to my
bones."
"Sure you can." Gary responded, reassuringly. "You know, when I was
a little kid. I used to love the snow. As soon as the first snow
fell, I'd be the first one to get out there and get my hands in it.
I'd stay in it for hours. And you know what? I was never cold until
that walk home. The thought of that walk home would make me cold.
But then, then, I'd remember that there would always be a cup of hot
chocolate waiting for me."
"With marshmallows?" Earl asked weakly.
"Yeah, that's right. I can still taste it."
"Me, too."
"Yeah? So whenever I'm cold, I think about that hot chocolate. You
see, that warms me up." Gary explained.
Despite his condition, Earl seemed to soak in Gary's words. "You
know what?" He said.
"What?"
"I...I can taste it."
* * * * * *
Chicago, South Side: Early 1970s
Old Man Winter had not waited to exhale before expelling a powerful
breath that dressed Chicago in a heavy blanket of snow. The powdery
precipitation wasn't winter's only largess; along with the snow came
frigid temperatures and the struggle for basic survival.
The tiny, careworn apartment with cracks weaving across the walls
like a spider's web, looked more like a casualty of war than a home.
The insidious landlord, an unsophisticated robber baron of sorts,
collected rent, but refused to make basic repairs on the premises.
The city appeared to have turned a blind eye to the malfeasance and
did nothing. There were no citations against the landlord for code
violations despite the complaints from the tenants. No investigators
came. People, packed in the tenement like rats, their bellies often
swelled with hunger, fought to cleave to their pride despite such
dismal circumstances.
The cold filtered in through the small opening in the kitchen
window. She had tried stuffing the opening with rags, but that did
little to keep out the conquering, bitter cold. She and her son sat
in their layers of clothing, shivering. They felt the cold right
through to their bones.
The kettle whistled. A moment later, the steaming water was added
to two cups that sat idly on the table. The hot chocolate smelled
rich and inviting.
Young Earl watched in eager anticipation as his mother removed the
marshmallows from the cupboard. Mom always added marshmallows to his
hot chocolate. The first sip always stung his lips, but Earl didn't
care. The pain was worth it. The taste of hot chocolate with
marshmallows made him forget how cold he was. Mom smiled at him as
he drank the brew.
In a way, it wasn't just the hot chocolate with marshmallows that
warmed him up inside, but Mom's smile as well. She never cried,
cursed their fate, nor blamed anyone for the kind of life that they
led. She clung to her faith in God and her love for her son. That
love was rich and wonderful.
They were poor, but what she couldn't give him in material
possessions, she made up in abundance of love. Wherever life took
him, Earl would always know that.
* * * * * *
Hickory, Indiana- Early 1970s
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and hurried towards his bedroom
window, mud green eyes sparkling with eager anticipation. The
weatherman had predicted snow last night and the predication had come
true. Mountains of snow covered the sleepy town.
School was closed today, so Young Gary looked forward to hours of
playing in the snow. The little boy charged down the stairs. His
mother's doting couldn't stifle his youthful exuberance; Gary was
fidgety as Lois bundled him up in his hat, scarf, gloves, and coat.
To a child, his mother's attention seemed to have lasted for an
eternity, but it was actually a few moments before he opened the door
and went outside.
Gary lay on the ground moving his arms and legs in an animated
fashion. Out of his movement, a beautiful snow angel emerged.
He played outside for hours. More snow angels resulted from his
efforts. Later, he joined a few neighborhood kids in a contest to
make snow people. The snow person that looked suspiciously
like "Miss Flowers" won first prize.
As he walked home, the little boy felt very cold. But as soon as he
Gary opened the front door, the smell of hot chocolate with
marshmallows assaulted his nostrils.
It didn't take him long before he sat down at the kitchen table. The
first sip always stung his lips, but Gary didn't care. The pain was
worth it. The taste of hot chocolate with marshmallows made him
forget how cold he was. Mom smiled at him as he drank the brew.
Whatever road he would travel in his life, Gary Hobson would always
remember those snow angels, Mom's smile, and hot chocolate with
marshmallows.
The End