Microfiction
Athenian Snow
She did not tell me—she may have said it in Greek—that it will be snowing in Athens. I dislike snow, no matter that I have lived most of my life in Canada—gone now informally but salvageable with the right fate. I have no faith or belief in anything except for love, and I mean the Anthi-and-M kind, not the dead Romeo and Juliet at the end, both. I never felt it to be romantic. There is nothing romantic about dying. It was a tragedy, of course, but Anthi and M is a tragedy too, except that nothing tragic has occurred yet. Someone must die or disappear, especially in reality; I mean, fiction. Actually, one of the narrators disappeared. It was expected by the writer, but it was sad. Eléni was loved, even by Goddess Athena, who had renamed her so. At least, I can bring Eléni back, whereas reality is much more complicated. Free will is a poor game, even worse than true or false. The human condition speaks volumes along its bloody history and uncertain future. The weather condition, on the other hand, also a poor game, relies on models and trends, and the amount of snow that a city can receive from the skies before it metamorphoses to white piss or pissy ice. But Athenian snow was different. It was almost welcomed; serene with the white houses and blue accents all the way to the sea. She did not tell me, but I knew. How could I not?
By Patrick M. Ohana2 years ago in Fiction
Frostbound Echoes
The moon was high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow across the snow-covered forest. Amidst the silence, a lone wolf left a trail of delicate pawprints etched into the icy canvas, its obsidian fur a stark contrast against the pristine landscape. Its breath hung in the cold air as it absorbed the secrets whispered by the winter wind.
By Emilie Turner2 years ago in Fiction
Cold Surprise
The cities on the west side of the Cascade Mountains are not equipped for snow. Lots of rain, occasional windstorms, and sometimes ice storms come. Snow is rare around Seattle, and side streets stay covered in snow and ice, the major roads the priority.
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Fiction
Myron's Badger Saves The Day
“Badger! Let’s get those ice clumps out of your paws.” The big Husky laid down on the wooden deck; I put one paw in my lap and wrapped it in a steaming cloth to loosen the ice. Badger’s tail thumped. The paw cleaning took thirty minutes, and after, the snowy wilderness and serenity sedated us to snooze by the fireplace.
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Fiction
It's a Hell of a Thing. Content Warning.
I killed a man with my bare hands. That’s not something I tell too many people and I’m not completely sure why I’m telling you now. There’s something in your eyes, I guess. It’s not that you look so much like someone I can trust. No, I don’t think that’s exactly it. You just strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t care.
By Randy Baker2 years ago in Fiction
One Man's Skating Pond. Content Warning.
When my children were young we homeschooled. Winter sports activities were limited when you had no Gymnasium, so we improvised. As I was drinking my morning Tequila and getting ready for a dull day of reading, writing, and arithmetic, I spied a shiny ribbon of ice, nestled in a wooded area just beyond our yard, in no man's land.
By Tina D'Angelo2 years ago in Fiction
