Here's preview of a book I'm writing based on true events. If it ever gets published─buy it...please!
In Central West Virginia they still refer to it as the Year of the Big Snow. It happened on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and Bobby’s mom was working at the Hazel Atlas glass plant when the blizzard hit. His family waited up all night worrying, not knowing how she would make it home, but he fell asleep sometime after midnight in the front bedroom next to the porch where he could hear if a car happened to stop. There were no cars running that night though. The snow, by midnight when her shift ended, was several feet deep and still falling. Phone lines were out, so even if she could find a phone she couldn’t call.
Finally, at about 2:30 in the morning, he heard voices and the crunch of footsteps in the snow. Sound carries at night when the ground is covered with the deep white stuff. You’d think it would muffle sound, but voices seem to carry further in the crisp night air. The voices were those of the neighbors who also worked the evening shift. They were bidding her goodnight as they made their own way along in the knee deep fluff to homes a block or two away.
When the key turned in the lock, Bobby jumped out of bed and ran to her, excited and happy that she had made it home safely. She seemed tired but exhilarated and spent the next several minutes telling about the walk home in three feet of drift. Some of the taller men from the factory, who had on boots, were able to lead the way, kicking a path through it for the ladies. Her low top boots were inadequate, but she managed to make the mile long walk and was anxious to relate the story. Pretty soon he was satisfied that she was all right and his dad sent him back to bed. There he dreamed of snow falling, kids sledding down Pride Avenue, snowballs flying, and a quiet, peaceful calm over the neighborhood. For years he would recall that night as fearful, yet exciting, and he would remember it as the best sleep of his life after his mom got home