Story: Rapture, Pt I

I had been skiing all day, and I was tired. I was now reaching the very bottom of the ski run, which I knew would be the last one of the day, since I had caught the last lift up to the top of the mountain. At the bottom of the run I turned around and looked back at the mountain I had just descended. The candlestick-like trees stood out as dark statues against the purple sky. No wind blew, and even the birds had stopped chirping. Day had ended; now it was time to rest.
At least, for most people. In the distance, I could hear someone attempting to start a snow mobile. The noise caused me to think back to when the idea of this ski trip with my best friend Jeff had first began to take shape.

The hot summer sun beat down upon me as I prepared to mow the lawn. The humidity engulfed me, making walking, talking, and even breathing feel as if it were being done under water rather than in air. It was a typical summer day in eastern Kansas. I placed my sandled left foot upon the edge of the mower, and I pulled the starting cord. The mower sputtered, whirred, and gasped in its struggle to start. After much effort, the mower wheezed and died.
Before I could make another attempt to start the mower, I heard a voice ask, "How's it going, Jimson?" It was my best friend, Jeff, looking calm and relaxed as usual, dressed in jean shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He had his brown hair combed straight back to allow air to reach his scalp below his thick hair, and his brown eyes reflected the heat of the summer sun.
"Okay," I replied with a frustrated smile. "I'm just about to embark on one of the great suburban adventures: starting the lawn mower. Would you care to join me?"
Jeff laughed. "No, thank you," he replied. "I have some errands to run. Besides, I wouldn't want to deprive you of a great adventure. After all, the humidity's what, ninety percent?"
"More like seventy," I corrected him instinctively.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Meteorologist," Jeff replied with a bright smile. He snapped his fingers. "Oh! I just remembered. I'm thinking about going skiing at Emerald Springs over Christmas Break. You want to come along?"
"Sure! That sounds great!" I exclaimed. Jeff and I had grown up together, and we'd known each other since grade school. He was my best friend, and for a year we had even gone to the same college in the same major, meteorology, before Jeff had decided to head off to another school that was closer to home. We saw each other only once or twice at most each year because of this, so spending a week-long ski trip with him appealed to me.
"Cool." Jeff said. "I'll let you know more of the details later." He smiled a laughing smile. "Enjoy your mowing adventure, Jimson!" He waved goodbye and roamed down the street.
I returned to the task at hand. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I attempted again to start the mower. I pulled viciously on the cord.
Nothing happened.
With great force, I hurled myself backwards again.
Nothing happened.
I pulled again, this time nearly flinging myself onto the ground behind me. My efforts were successful, as a roar like that of a small lion reached my ears.
I got behind the mower and began mowing, dreaming of the snowy, cool ski slopes of Colorado in order to escape the ninety-degree pool of summer air.