Microfiction
Snow Angel. Content Warning.
Snow falls gently, uncaring, on the small, stiff body. Pretty flakes dot her whiskers. The breeze stirs her tortoiseshell fur. Blood has dripped from her injured mouth to decorate her white chest. Her eyes, half shut, are filling up gently. Her claws are broken; they found no purchase on the tarmac when the van caught her.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Fiction
Under the Snow. Content Warning.
Street lights dance on icicles hanging from the rooftops and naked tree limbs. The darkening night sky is speckled in falling snow and stars. The street is covered in a blanket of white, crisp powder, like a car with a fresh coat of paint.
By Alexandria Stanwyck2 years ago in Fiction
A Visit from Santa (Pt. 2 of 2)
Santa sat in a curious lump as he pulled the sack of gifts from on top of him, as he tried to get up. He had his usual system for getting down chimneys, and having a sack of gifts dropped on him was not the way. He noticed three kids staring him down from just beyond the doorway.
By Timothy E Jones2 years ago in Fiction
A Visit from Santa (Pt. 1 of 2)
It was the worst mistake in Santa's long life. He should have known better; but he didn't. He had decided to take what was the clumsiest elf that ever existed with him on that particular Christmas eve. Mainly because the other elves didn't like having her around. The elf stepped out and landed in a pile of Donnor doo and fell on her ass, sliding down the slanted roof, stopping herself just short of flying off.
By Timothy E Jones2 years ago in Fiction
Human Nature
The crisp, crunching sound of snow under Al’s foot sent sparrows darting from their hiding places, chirping out warnings of an encroaching stranger. The snowshoer avoided the cones of snow around each tree and stayed within the pathways of the known backcountry trail. Hearing a whimpering nearby, he paused as the snow continued to fall, blanketing both land and sky with white fluffy cotton. Following the sounds of the weak cries, he discovers a bloody scene next to a spruce tree, where a hunter’s trap had been laid. All around the trap was blood splattered here and there, with a trail of the crimson spots leading northward along with small footprints; that of a common red fox. As Al approached the animal, he knew time was of the essence, and he immediately bundled up the injured leg which had been badly mangled by the metal trap. Too weak to even growl, the fox limply allowed itself to be carried by the man, who walked as fast as he could back to his truck, trying to remember the way back to town. He knew that the nearest veterinarian was several kilometres away, which meant time was of the essence and that every minute counted. Putting the red fox in the backseat, he gently covered it with a winter jacket, urging the animal to hold on, and for a moment, the fox lifted its head and looked at his rescuer, as if thanking him, before falling back into unconsciousness awaiting his fate.
By Jesse Leung2 years ago in Fiction
Footprints in the Snow
I begin to drift off to sleep in my remote ski cabin in the woods. The snow and winter wind are blowing strongly outside. Except for the storm, it is eerily quiet outside. This is because all of the woodland critters are hiding from the harsh winter weather. As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep after a long day of skiing, my mind wanders and I begin to ponder those footprints I saw near my cabin today. They were clearly human footprints, and were likely made from a man’s boot. And a large boot at that, likely at least a size thirteen.
By Austin Blessing-Nelson (Blessing)2 years ago in Fiction
