Microfiction
Lonesome Road
Sarah stood at the top of the hill, waiting. For what, she didn’t know, maybe a sign from above. But there aren’t always signs to guide you in a tough decision: what is right and is possible aren’t always aligned. She thought about this while facing the two-lane highway. A lone car whooshed as it went by.
By Natalie Wilkinson2 years ago in Fiction
Don't stay out in the Snow
I had found a new footprint! It was left in the fresh snow. It wasn't like mine, not human. But I couldn’t think of an animal with six toes. It had been snowing all day, and I finally was allow outside. But only for twenty minutes. Because it was getting darker and the snow was still falling from the sky. Maybe just this once, I could breaking mum’s rule. I took one last look at the porch light that was flickering on. It was easy enough to see in the snow. And Miss Rose said that ever good explorer broke the rules sometimes.
By Lane Burns2 years ago in Fiction
Snow Forest
The snow fell softly, like an array of small feathers engulfing the sounds of nature. The dense woodland was eerily quiet as River took her first step, sinking into the light, powdery snow. Peace encumbered her, and a wave of calm swept over the entire forest. Step after step, the woods swallowed her. If she hadn't a sense of direction, you could say she was lost. But she knew these woods, she's walked their paths many times. She was home.
By Kendra J. Anthony2 years ago in Fiction
Lake Effect
Let me tell you a story. What I have to say is true. It happened just a few days ago. A mysterious cloud of dihydro-monoxide formed over the Atlantic Ocean not far from the coast of Florida. Carried by strong winds it moved North to colder climates. This caused the cloud to crystallize. The wind carried it westward over Lake Michigan, increasing its intensity. The now heavier cloud began to break apart. It dumped crystallized dihydro-monoxide on Chicago and its suburbs.
By David E. Perry2 years ago in Fiction
The Snowman and Me
I sat watching the snowman melt through my window. Every day, I checked to see if he was still there, holding fast. Today, his hat had fallen crooked. His middle torso drooped like sagging shoulders, but his eyes remained firm. His stare resonated through me. I couldn’t help but feel connected somehow, but I couldn’t place the feeling. The glass fogged, and I wiped the mist with my palm for one blurry last look. It’s much warmer indoors, but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe we were both melting. It feels like that sometimes. No matter how much you try to remain strong and steady, the world melts it all away.
By Simon George2 years ago in Fiction
Trudging Along
Trudging along. That is what she was doing. As she plodded through the grey mush she rolled the word trudging over and over in her brain until it turned into the balderdash all words do when you concentrate on them too much. She felt she was stuck in the place where the words don’t make sense anymore and it was getting harder to escape.
By Jackie Adams2 years ago in Fiction
Snowy Dragon
The bitter winter wind blew through the pass, shooting fat snowflakes across the ravine’s craggy peaks. Water seeps from tree roots through the cracks in the rock in icy waterfalls. No creature in its right mind would be out in the flurry. Instead, they nestle in small caves, nooks, and crannies, anywhere shielded from the cold. Inside the snow-wreathed mouth of a small cave lays a creature upon a bed of gold. She is long and slender with a white-scaled body protectively wrapped around a pile of gold. Her stomach growls; she has not eaten in days, but will not budge. She cannot make the same mistake she made last year.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
Praying for Sunshine
The small battery-powered FM radio notifies us that many powerlines are down. This is the cold snap of the century. We don’t know how long it will be out, and we are in a rural area. Bundling up, we walked a quarter of a mile to my grandmother’s sturdy foundation house. Where we rely on her ancient castiron stove to keep us warm and cook, fed only as much wood as necessary to keep the temperature barely warm enough to be comfortable. We’ve put quilts over the doorway to the hall and door outside to keep in as much of the warmth as possible. Hunkering down, we wait for the pot of snow to heat up and boil for water and coffee to percolate.
By S.N. Evans2 years ago in Fiction
