Whispered Prayers

by Alex Grayson

snow is coming down in huge flakes now and it’s halfway up the tires of my truck. Something catches my attention, and I try to focus on it. My feet clunk to the porch, and I get up from my seat. Walking to the railing, I squint. Something’s off in the distance, but I can’t tell what it is with the heavy snowfall. I set my mug down on the railing and walk off the porch. I’ve gotten about fifty yards when I realize it’s a vehicle. “Sonofabitch,” I mutter. This is the only road out this way for miles. The vehicle looks to be at an angle, indicating they’re more than likely stuck in a ditch. I’m half tempted to leave them out there—it’s fucking stupid to be out driving in this weather—but with how fast the snow is coming down and the dropping temperatures, they’ll likely freeze to death. I stomp back to the house, cursing under my breath the entire way. Helping some idiot is the last thing I want to be doing right now. I like my solitude out here, and except for the people I have to deal with regarding the horses I train, I try to avoid them as much as possible. I swipe my keys from the hook just inside the door and grab a bigger coat from the closet, along with some thick gloves. “Stay here. I’ll be back,” I tell Gigi, who’s sitting at the door watching me. I start the truck to let it warm up while I brush snow off the windshield and windows, then put the chains on my tires. Living in this area, it’s pretty much required you have four-wheel drive, or you better bet your ass s...