He was the only one who was getting smaller by the day. He was also the only one who didn't speak, which was really peculiar because even the village mute had a way of talking. It was impossible to socialize. His life was very sad, condemned to melt away flake by flake. He envied werewolves and vampires, and even Cinderella, they seem happy, but he just stood there, day and night. He was also the only one who liked the cold. He was unique, but unique in a bad way, he was quirky, different. One day, he decided to melt
Calvin shaped the first of the snowmen--just two blobs, packed down into a rough imitation of a body. The second was no better. The precise shape was irrelevant; it just needed a form.
By the time he finished the thirtieth, he saw the first slump and then straighten. Was the day warming already? No, the oversized thermometer on the porch read twenty-five degrees.
He worked feverishly, slapping the snow into hasty clumps. He had to complete fifty within an hour for the talisman to be effective. If he was short, even by one, his creations would be useless. But the snow witch had promised that, if he kept the terms of the agreement, they would be a faithful and invincible army. He would rule all of Purcell Drive.
He stood at the corner of the subway, looking at his phone. The police had resumed searching for a missing murder weapon in a cold case.
It was at his school, from many years ago.
He remembered the backyard where they had the snowman making competition. There’d be dozens of them standing side-by-side.
He remembered a young electrician who worked there. He once gave him a rusty toolbox, said it’s a lucky charm if he could bury it deep under his snowman. He’d peeked inside and saw some screwdrivers. So he buried them to see if the lucky charm worked.
The snowman’s shook upside down. Soft Frosty’s music box stopped. Put me to sleep. Morning arrived. I closed the window. Snow lay on my desk; heavy, wet, feet, blankets, the yard. Snow plows silent for now. I dressed, dashed into snow-proof layers. Test, a snowball, not throw, but roll. Three balls placed a top another. Stone eyes, stick nose, mouth, and arms. Friends arrive. Frosty snowman, replaced by fort walls. Mittens, wet, cached cannon balls, commence war. Soaked, truce is called. An igloo’s made; inside ice tunnel candlelights dim. Corncob peacepipe, smoked. Undetected the treasured day tales end.
It had been a long, boring summer, full of pointless activity, rising early with nothing to do, waiting listlessly for the snow to fly. He lived for the blizzards and ice storms. He felt his blood flowing again, as he hooked up the plow to his F-350 pickup. It was Thanksgiving morning, snowing with no end in sight. He wouldn't mind missing the football or the interminable visits from the relatives. The missus would set aside a plate of turkey and fixings. The Snowman set off cheerily under the cold, grey skies, clearing the roads of the glorious white mess.
It's rare for business to grind to a halt, due to snow.
However, last night, the perfect combination of moisture from the lake, cold air, and a deep low pressure system dumped multiple feet of snow. The snow completely overwhelmed the town's resources, and everything in the town (including the school) closed down.
After a busy morning shoveling out the front entrance, I invited my children to come outside and play in the snow. Armed with their beach toys, they went to work.
By sundown, an army of snowmen stood. We hope they will keep the front entrance snow free.
Liza was in a slump. Come winter she schlepped to and from work in pitch dark. One night she noticed a solitary figure out her back window standing in the field behind her yard. She felt that old spark in the Lower 48, opened the drapes, lit the lamp, and stripped down to the skin. Slowly. No visible reaction from the watcher. But he was back the next night. And the night after. Next day the cold spell broke. Liza hustled home for showtime. Nobody there.
At dawn she checked out back with a flashlight. Nothing but a soggy carrot.
Matilda glowered over tight folded arms.
"I won't eat them, daddy."
"But you always eat them. You love them! I put them in your school lunch all the time."
"You lied to me! Lying is bad!"
"What do you mean, honey?"
"You know I'm a ... a...veg-na-tarium," she shouted, slamming tiny fists down.
"But... carrots are vegetables, Mattie," I smiled.
"You're LYING AGAIN. They're snowmans' noses!"
My 100 mg of a Snowman
-------
He was the only one who was getting smaller by the day. He was also the only one who didn't speak, which was really peculiar because even the village mute had a way of talking. It was impossible to socialize. His life was very sad, condemned to melt away flake by flake. He envied werewolves and vampires, and even Cinderella, they seem happy, but he just stood there, day and night. He was also the only one who liked the cold. He was unique, but unique in a bad way, he was quirky, different. One day, he decided to melt
Loved this one! ☃️
The Snowman
They press me into being—
gloved hands, blunt and clumsy,
molding my form from silence,
from the brittle breath of winter.
A scarf winds tight,
a noose or a gift,
I cannot decide.
A carrot juts from my face,
its weight absurd,
its scent too loud in this quiet world.
They give me eyes of coal,
black mirrors
that see nothing, reflect everything.
Their laughter carves me a grin,
but it aches to hold.
The sun looms,
mocking my stillness,
its warmth creeping closer,
too much, too soon.
I stand proud today,
a sentinel in their joy,
but tomorrow I will be less—
a puddle, a whisper,
a memory dissolving
into the earth’s cold heart.
Calvin shaped the first of the snowmen--just two blobs, packed down into a rough imitation of a body. The second was no better. The precise shape was irrelevant; it just needed a form.
By the time he finished the thirtieth, he saw the first slump and then straighten. Was the day warming already? No, the oversized thermometer on the porch read twenty-five degrees.
He worked feverishly, slapping the snow into hasty clumps. He had to complete fifty within an hour for the talisman to be effective. If he was short, even by one, his creations would be useless. But the snow witch had promised that, if he kept the terms of the agreement, they would be a faithful and invincible army. He would rule all of Purcell Drive.
Microdosing - 100mg of a Snowman
===
He stood at the corner of the subway, looking at his phone. The police had resumed searching for a missing murder weapon in a cold case.
It was at his school, from many years ago.
He remembered the backyard where they had the snowman making competition. There’d be dozens of them standing side-by-side.
He remembered a young electrician who worked there. He once gave him a rusty toolbox, said it’s a lucky charm if he could bury it deep under his snowman. He’d peeked inside and saw some screwdrivers. So he buried them to see if the lucky charm worked.
Brilliant Olivia!
Thanks Miguel!
Thanks Mike!
Kurowski clambered up the ice blasted ridge on hands and knees.
McConnell was already there, as always, gloved hand extended.
They hadn't spoken in months.
“Didn't put this suit on to spend Christmas day in mutinous company.”
“Shut up and shovel,” he said, "we're building a snowman . . . world’s first.”
He glared at his hulking dome for what felt like an age, overcompensating for the lack of leering eye contact, masked by mirrored visors.
“What do we use for eyes, idiot?”
McConnell popped the clips of his ruck and turned the contents out.
Dozens of rust-red rocks.
"This is Mars . . . idiot."
AWESOME. AWESOMELY AWESOME.
Thanks Nick! Your comments are AWESOME! 👍
i am obsessed with mars! this is a great take!
Me too - I've just bought the first few volumes of Edgar Rice Burroughs' John Carter series - never read them before - very exited!
have you read KSRs red blue and green mars... surely you have...?
Not yet I'm afraid - it's on the TBR!
the film was pretty damned good... surprised!
I actually thought the film sucked lol - which is maybe why I've waited so long to pick up the books - which I'm promised, are infinitely better!
That would truly be world's first! Does it snow on Mars?
It's apparently a wonderland at the poles: frost, ice and feet of snow - I have a minor obsession with Mars, place of dreams for me!
That's cool. The more you know.
Snowman
The snowman’s shook upside down. Soft Frosty’s music box stopped. Put me to sleep. Morning arrived. I closed the window. Snow lay on my desk; heavy, wet, feet, blankets, the yard. Snow plows silent for now. I dressed, dashed into snow-proof layers. Test, a snowball, not throw, but roll. Three balls placed a top another. Stone eyes, stick nose, mouth, and arms. Friends arrive. Frosty snowman, replaced by fort walls. Mittens, wet, cached cannon balls, commence war. Soaked, truce is called. An igloo’s made; inside ice tunnel candlelights dim. Corncob peacepipe, smoked. Undetected the treasured day tales end.
nice... a whole day captured. childhood revisited. sweet.
It had been a long, boring summer, full of pointless activity, rising early with nothing to do, waiting listlessly for the snow to fly. He lived for the blizzards and ice storms. He felt his blood flowing again, as he hooked up the plow to his F-350 pickup. It was Thanksgiving morning, snowing with no end in sight. He wouldn't mind missing the football or the interminable visits from the relatives. The missus would set aside a plate of turkey and fixings. The Snowman set off cheerily under the cold, grey skies, clearing the roads of the glorious white mess.
It's rare for business to grind to a halt, due to snow.
However, last night, the perfect combination of moisture from the lake, cold air, and a deep low pressure system dumped multiple feet of snow. The snow completely overwhelmed the town's resources, and everything in the town (including the school) closed down.
After a busy morning shoveling out the front entrance, I invited my children to come outside and play in the snow. Armed with their beach toys, they went to work.
By sundown, an army of snowmen stood. We hope they will keep the front entrance snow free.
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special.
Special.
Doo, doo doo, da da da dee dee da da daaaah.
Dilli dilli dee!
Dilli dilli dee!
do do do do dooooh...
[repeat chorus then fade]
Liza was in a slump. Come winter she schlepped to and from work in pitch dark. One night she noticed a solitary figure out her back window standing in the field behind her yard. She felt that old spark in the Lower 48, opened the drapes, lit the lamp, and stripped down to the skin. Slowly. No visible reaction from the watcher. But he was back the next night. And the night after. Next day the cold spell broke. Liza hustled home for showtime. Nobody there.
At dawn she checked out back with a flashlight. Nothing but a soggy carrot.
a show without an audience!
A gift for the giver!
Poor snowmen... good one.
Here's a quick Haiku for this one...
THE SNOWMAN
He was made of snow,
But even so, people swore,
They saw the eyes move... ⛄😎⛄
Creepy! ...and nice!
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it... 😎
What a good father!
I repeat, but this time about you: What a good father! Your daughter must idolize you!