copyright Dee Lovering
The moment I was created in that frozen cloud crucible, I knew I was a killer. I spun my six blades and my war cry joined that of my tens of millions of brethren. I fell like an arctic Abaddon, ready to destroy everything in my path. A fleshy digit was thrust out below me and I prepared to slice it to pieces.
“Look, a snowflake!”
A killing warmth surrounded me. My six daggers melted away as I puddled.
* * *
The moment I was created as a tiny water droplet on a little girl’s finger, I knew I was a life-giver . . .
29 Comments | tags: Abaddon, arctic, death, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, snow, transformation, winter | posted in Friday Fictioneers
My apologies to everyone who has been wondering where I have disappeared to. I’m around but I have been quite busy and fairly exhausted. You know I’m behind on things when I post a Friday Fictioneers story on Friday. 🙂
Snow Angels in Hawaii
Keck had just found proof of life. I had, really. Soon I would be famous.
I lay in the snow outside, gazing up at the universe.
I don’t have a tie.
I sweat too much.
Talk shows. Ugh.
I looked up into Everything and almost cried. This wasn’t our universe anymore. We were younger brother now to a superior race. The vast parsecs where I had roamed for my career weren’t the frontier; they were someone else’s backyard.
I moved my arms back and forth, melancholy in my triumph, feeling as out of place as a snow angel in Hawaii.
*Keck Observatory is on Mauna Kea in Hawaii.
24 Comments | tags: aliens, astronomy, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Hawaii, Keck Observatory, mountains, snow, snow angels | posted in Friday Fictioneers
This was inspired by the photo prompt and also because we just got a fresh blanket of snow last night. Hopefully I’m a bit more prepared than the girl below.
Chillin’ in Alaska
Ramsey cursed. Who knew that Alaska in the winter would be so cold? She trudged through the snow, icicles forming on her Ray-Ban sunglasses and looked for a Four Seasons. Even a Marriott would work.
There was nothing but trees.
It was all Google’s fault. She had woken up two days before just hating the world and everyone in it. She needed to get away so she had searched for the place with the lowest population density in the US. It had said that Alaska had 1.3 people per square mile, but that was BS because she had walked at least a mile and hadn’t seen anyone.
She dreaded seeing the 0.3 people.
Her feet were frozen and she was ravenous. “I’ve never been this miserable in my life,” she said out loud. She had to tweet about it. She pulled out her phone.
What was the point of being miserable if nobody knew about it? She had to go back, if she could just find her tracks. She set off, going back, and started recording a video to post later.
“Hey friends! Ramsey here. Just chillin’ in Alaska. Wish you were all here!”
It was dark and getting colder. There was a growl in the woods somewhere behind her.
“That had better not be the 0.3 people!” she yelled.
6 Comments | tags: Alaska, Alastair's Photo Fiction, cold, dark humor, fiction, flash fiction, icicles, snow, winter | posted in Light
The Snow Tree
“Daddy, let’s go! Let’s go!”
My youngest daughter Terri was bouncing up and down with impatience. I could understand. The weather was broiling and the whole world was sunnyside up.
We walked to the cemetery slowly, keeping under the shade of the trees. Then we saw it up ahead, the snow tree, gently shedding its delicate frozen blossoms.
It seemed like half the town was there already, making snow cones and throwing snowballs that melted with a hiss as soon as they left the shade of the tree.
It was amazing how incurious our town of Gooseneck was. The tree was obviously magical, but there it was, dropping snow all year round, so what were you going to do?
Terri and I played under that tree every day that summer. But it was the last. The town ran into budget problems and sold the tree to a casino for fifty million dollars. We were sad to see it go.
Although, not as sad as we were when we realized that the tree had been planted to keep a pack of ghouls that were buried in the cemetery frozen for all eternity. They were pissed when they thawed out.
Nobody saw that one coming.
8 Comments | tags: Alastair's Photo Fiction, fantasy, fiction, flash fiction, ghouls, magic, monsters, snow, tree | posted in Light
I watched it from the mountaintop: the creeping whiteness that devoured the landscape below me. I had climbed up, camera in hand, to capture the view but instead what I saw was nothingness. It was not fog, it was simply white. I should have been frightened, I suppose, but instead I watched with dread fascination as it ate away at the landscape, slowly approaching the mountain where I stood. Just as it was climbing up the slope, I saw far away, a glimmer of something. It was a single spot of color in the vast field of white, but it was enough to give me hope. So I saw down on the bench to watch and see what would happen.
6 Comments | tags: David Stewart, Jeonju, Korea, mountains, photograph, snow, vanishing, visual fiction, white, winter | posted in Visual Fiction
taken in Gyeongju, Korea
It was a New Year’s miracle, they say, and as far as I know, no one has been able to explain it. New Year’s Eve was projected to be bitterly cold and we bundled up together on the couch, watching the festivities on TV. The wind picked up and I heard the house creak slightly.
“I’m going to go check on the stuff on the porch,” I said. I put on my coat and hat and stepped outside, bracing myself for an icy blast. Instead…I stopped, in shock. The wind was warm, like something you might feel in April, not the last day of December. I stood there, stupefied, and then took my jacket off. The snow was melting, running off in rivulets, opening up dark patches on the lawn and driveway.
“Honey, come take a look at this,” I called after a moment. She came, finally, grumbling a little at being called away from the warm couch, but then stopped short and laughed. We stood there for a long time, marveling and enjoying the warmth.
The wind died and soft whiteness began to fall.
“It’s snowing,” she said. “Isn’t it too warm for that?”
“It’s not snow.” I was looking closely now. It was not until I reached out and caught one on my hand that I realized they were flowers; tiny delicate white blossoms that released a delicious fragrance that made me close my eyes and breathe deeply. We watched, silently, as the flowers covered the ground and trees around our yard.
From the living room, we faintly heard the countdown and shouts of “Happy New Year!”
I put my arm around her and hugged her tight. “It’s going to be a good year,” I said. She nodded.
9 Comments | tags: blossoms, Gyeongju, Korea, miracle, New Year's, photograph, seasons, snow, visual fiction | posted in Visual Fiction
I had toiled many days through the snowy mountains until my strength and spirit were almost gone. I was about to despair when I came to an area where stone lanterns sat, capped in snow. Nothing was moving, save a few small birds, which filled the air with their chirping. I tried to move on, but they fluttered around me, always blocking my way.
Taken in Odaesan National Park, Korea
I finally held out my hand and one of the birds came and perched on it. It may have been my fatigued state, but it seemed to me that the bird spoke to me. “There is hope,” it said. “You have wandered many days and do not know, but today is Christmas. It is a day when all people can find hope, for it was the day that the great Hope came into the world.”
With that, it flew away and although it would not come back to my hand again, I followed the birds to a hidden path and found myself at last in the land of life and hope.
12 Comments | tags: birds, Christmas, Gangwon, hope, Korea, mountains, photograph, snow, temple, visual fiction, winter | posted in Visual Fiction