Friday Fictioneer 100 Word Story #6: Baby It’s Cold Outside

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Can’t tell if I’m going right or not. Can’t find my tracks on the logging road from when I walked in. They should be there, hasn’t been snowing since I been up here. I remember the hill on my left, so it should be on the right now… shouldn’t it? Getting dark, can’t see; better figure this out quick… what a damn fool, come up here with just a windbreaker, T-shirt and sneakers! But it was sunny, almost warm. Damn, it’s cold now! Buster, all he does is chase things, he’s warm, he doesn’t care, he’s got his own life.



    • Thanks, Doug. I read Jack London books when I was a young boy (along with Zane Grey, Albert Payson Terhune and, the greatest of all, Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes) but can’t remember if I read that. This came from two of my own experiences: one, getting completely lost at an alpine lake as it was getting dark at Christmastime; the other, my truck going off the road, also at dusk, on black ice, me without shovel, blanket, heavy coat or enough gas to run the truck and keep the heater on. Both very scary in the cold face of nature.

      • I’m glad you managed to weather those two experiences safely. Isn’t it amazing how much our experiences color our writing?

        Nature doesn’t care. Good thing you figured out what to do to survive.



  1. Carlos, good story. You made me feel the confusion, frustration and dread of your character. One can always hope that Buster will stop chasing and lead him out. 🙂 Happy New Year!

  2. Thanks, Jan. My feeling, my bias, not a visible part of the story but somewhere underneath, is that a short-haired dog would be less aloof — and less impervious to the cold — and would come back to help and keep me, and itself, warm. But I grew up with and always had Pit Bull Terriers and then Staffordshire Bull Terriers, so I’m a short-hair dog guy and not at all sure long-haired Buster would come back.

  3. Carlos you make me wonder what he came back for that he his is now risking life and frozen limb!
    I like the conversation he has in his head. Very believable!
    Great post!

  4. The voice is so strong here. I saw you mentioned you felt it paralleled to Lindaura’s and obviously, it does, but I wouldn’t probably have noticed it because the motivations for the narrator are so deeply different. And in your story, the dog is so secondary — really just another avenue for understanding the narrator’s psyche. Super interesting. Good job.

  5. An enjoyable story Carlos.
    I found the short, sharp sentences added to the sense of someone in a hurry, breathless and in a panic.
    A great read.

  6. Thank goodness he has Buster. I have confidence your character, despite his lack of preparedness, will be safe thanks to his furry companion! I like that Buster has “his own life.” Isn’t that the truth with dogs…

    Happy writing,

  7. I have sooooo been on logging roads and intersections of such that make me have to wonder which direction I had just been going, LOL. In the snow and cold, no less while out searching for wayward horses. But being as cold natured as I am, I always am bundled 😉

    Great story!

    • Yes, I figured. In my reply to Doug I mentioned two real instances that affected me and the first one, when my truck went off the road, was my introduction to living in the mountains at the start of my first winter. To be prepared all the time, because the possibilities are real and dangerous. An off-duty snowplow truck happened to come by and saved me that time; I never went out again without a shovel, enough gas, and warm clothes again.

  8. Hi, Carlos.

    This is the first time I’m reading your work, and I have to say I really enjoyed this one. Great style. I could see his shivers, his chattering teeth, without you even describing it. I felt the character’s overwhelming anxiety from the firt sentence, and it never let up.

    Well done. I look forward to reading more!


    • He must look like a Buster. It’s not a name I personally would choose for a dog, but then I wouldn’t ordinarily choose a long-haired dog. Or a dog that wasn’t black. The dog my father had when I was born was named Rab — now there’s a name for a dog!

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