Story: Rapture, Pt II

"And now I'm here," I thought, coming back to the present. The sky in the far east was a shade of deep blue reminiscent of blue pen ink. I could also see clouds black as soot on the edge of the horizon. I looked closer and saw that they were cumulus towers, pretty well developed ones, especially for winter. It appeared that a blizzard was raging to our south.
"We'll be okay," I thought as I resumed skiing toward the ski lodge. "Those systems generally track to the south."
Three minutes later, I reached the edge of the snow, forcing me to take off my skis and clunk around instead in my heavy, plastic ski boots. As I climbed over a small hill placed at the end of the run to aid runaway skiers in stopping, I saw the ski lodge.
It was a tall, brown pile of logs exploding straight out of the deep snow. The logs that made up the building were worn smooth from years of snow blasting against them. Snow partially covered the roof, the shingles peeking out from underneath like shy children hiding behind their mothers' skirts. Wispy, gray smoke floated out of the red brick chimney into the atmosphere. The last rays of the setting sun caught the smoke as it rose, lighting it on fire and turning it vibrant shades of orange and red.
The main doors of the ski lodge were taller and wider than normal doors. Whoever had built the doors had carved them in intricate fashion, fashioning a large lattice pattern into the sturdy oak wood. The doors in my mind ceased to be doors and instead became gates that led into a city. No warden or men in armor awaited me, and no one stopped me as I approached. Chocolate-colored shutters flanked all the windows on both the first and second floor.
I entered through the wooden gates, leaving my poles and skis just inside the door on the left-hand side. This ski resort was small; I knew no one would take my equipment. The entryway in which I stood held more than one set of skis, boots, and poles of various sizes and styles. I did not see Jeff's skis among them, though. "That's odd," I thought. "He should definitely be here by now since he stopped skiing far earlier than I did."
I examined all of the ski paraphernalia which ran up and down both sides of the long, narrow room, clumped together in groups of two, three, or four. In front of me was one double-wide, ornamentally-carved doorway. This large portal led into the lodge's main room, and it was through this door that I entered.
The main room stretched upward and outward, its ends distant from me. In the very center of the room sat a large, open fireplace. Already a large fire glowed, providing more warmth and cheer to a warm and cheery room. The fireplace sat raised on a cylindrical pile of rough, limestone-colored stones. Numerous couches surrounded the fireplace, sunken a half a foot below the level of the main floor. Skiers in various states of tiredness occupied the couches, their faces all glowing brightly after having been outside in the sun all day.
I surveyed the room, hoping to see Jeff. Having no luck, I headed over to the long bar which was on the right-hand edge of the room. Bartenders dressed in inconspicuous brown sweaters were serving drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, to thirsty customers. The mahogany bar stretched along one wall, overshadowed by the second-level balcony, which ran around the edge of the main room, providing the more claustrophobic a way to escape the press of the crowds. The wall framed windows that were spaced every fifteen feet. Through these windows I could see the sky and the clouds that appeared to be moving closer and closer.
"That blizzard appears to be moving closer," I thought, a small amount of worry beginning to seize me. "If that blizzard draws in and Jeff's still out on the slopes..."