At twelve, I longed to be one of the snowflakes: whirling gracefully through the air, radiant, ethereal, each one a tiny speck of light, uniquely herself yet moving in perfect unison with the ensemble.
“You could play Clara instead,” my mother suggested. “She doesn’t have to be a real ballerina.”
Harriet pressed her cheek to the cold window, the dark outside thick with snow. A flake spiraled, fragile, to the ground. “Come home, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice lost in the soft silence of the house. The tree stood, still and empty, the space beside her untouched. “Please, be here for Christmas.” She watched the flake absorb into the ground, wished it into a prayer.
Hours later, the door creaked open, and the familiar weight of absence dissolved. Her father stood, not a ghost but flesh, his eyes bright with unsaid words. “I heard you,” he murmured, lifting her, warmth returning where it had once been cold.
He glanced her way. Her lips parted as if in slow motion arranging into a pout. Her hands clamped her hips. He couldn't look away before the glare came, before the words came.
“How could you?” she screamed. “I thought you cared. Do you know what I've been through?”
‘Could you describe a snowflake?’ Her teacher asked them.
She hunched down, hiding in the back-row seat.
She remembered the story about teenage girls playing by the water on a sunny day. ‘Snowflakes’, white radioactive ashes flew over them, landed on their skins. Most didn’t make it to their adulthood.
Bloodshot eyes burrowed, unblinking, through the porthole of Cargo-Bay-One; furrowed brow softening, head cocked - like he always did - offering a single, silent word:
Sorry.
She winked optimistically, before wrenching the lever.
Hard.
Fantastic flash.
Soothing void.
As the glass cooled, a brilliant snowflake formed.
"Perfection . . . in both symmetry . . . and singularity."
@Miguel S.An ancient bulb pops as Shane flips the switch. At least there’s two more, he figures.
With caffeinated vigor, he throws on his rain coat and opens the door. “Pays to be prepared,” he declares, as a snowflake melts on his nose. “Uhhh... Anybody buy gas for the snow blower?”
He wasn’t intentionally pedantic, nor did he seek to be awkward. But since he had spent the whole morning, cold penetrating into his very core, he felt entitled to text his science teacher to point out that just because he hadn’t found a duplicate yet didn’t mean he never would.
He'd done thousands. Millions and billions more were needed. Each snip and cut was second nature now. Perfectly symmetrical snowflakes. Some would form into tremendous sculptures created by children. Others would be launched as missiles. But why symmetrical? “Because,” said the foreman, “if we don't do it, they’ll check!”
Billy listened to the teacher drone on about clouds, evaporation, condensation, and water vapor. All he cared about was rushing home for Christmas break. As every child wishes, it snowed for Christmas. But Billy remembered ALL water eventually evaporates, even pee. No longer did he catch snowflakes on his tongue.
Ellie was picketing peacefully when the hulking mouth breather in cammo got up in her mug. Quite pleased with himself.
“Go home snowflake!”
“Not a scientist, huh? You just complimented me on my toughness. Ability to withstand a 5,000-meter fall at temps of 4 below. What can you do, dumbass?”
Miguel, I think you're still writing about that muse!
SNOWFLAKE (50)
At twelve, I longed to be one of the snowflakes: whirling gracefully through the air, radiant, ethereal, each one a tiny speck of light, uniquely herself yet moving in perfect unison with the ensemble.
“You could play Clara instead,” my mother suggested. “She doesn’t have to be a real ballerina.”
Harriet pressed her cheek to the cold window, the dark outside thick with snow. A flake spiraled, fragile, to the ground. “Come home, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice lost in the soft silence of the house. The tree stood, still and empty, the space beside her untouched. “Please, be here for Christmas.” She watched the flake absorb into the ground, wished it into a prayer.
Hours later, the door creaked open, and the familiar weight of absence dissolved. Her father stood, not a ghost but flesh, his eyes bright with unsaid words. “I heard you,” he murmured, lifting her, warmth returning where it had once been cold.
PROMPT: SNOWFLAKE
THE SNOWFLAKES
The snowflakes looked so beautiful as they were falling.
So magical.
Like a scene from a Christmas card come to life, as everything became dusted in white.
It was almost hypnotic.
And it was so pretty and fun to watch, that he couldn’t resist immediately shaking the snow globe again… ❄️😎❄️
The Snowflake
He glanced her way. Her lips parted as if in slow motion arranging into a pout. Her hands clamped her hips. He couldn't look away before the glare came, before the words came.
“How could you?” she screamed. “I thought you cared. Do you know what I've been through?”
I have read the comments
Yall have covered all the ways
A snowflake can be covered
In a prose and poetic stay
So what's left is my emotion
Of how much I hate winter
So every snowflake that falls
Is my personal sinner
Go away colden days
Spring, come quickly!
Thank you, Scott
Microdosing - 50mg of a Snowflake
===
‘Could you describe a snowflake?’ Her teacher asked them.
She hunched down, hiding in the back-row seat.
She remembered the story about teenage girls playing by the water on a sunny day. ‘Snowflakes’, white radioactive ashes flew over them, landed on their skins. Most didn’t make it to their adulthood.
Bloodshot eyes burrowed, unblinking, through the porthole of Cargo-Bay-One; furrowed brow softening, head cocked - like he always did - offering a single, silent word:
Sorry.
She winked optimistically, before wrenching the lever.
Hard.
Fantastic flash.
Soothing void.
As the glass cooled, a brilliant snowflake formed.
"Perfection . . . in both symmetry . . . and singularity."
@Miguel S.An ancient bulb pops as Shane flips the switch. At least there’s two more, he figures.
With caffeinated vigor, he throws on his rain coat and opens the door. “Pays to be prepared,” he declares, as a snowflake melts on his nose. “Uhhh... Anybody buy gas for the snow blower?”
😂
One snowflake, two snowflakes, three snowflakes, four,
One hundred, five hundred, a thousand and more!
Thousands of snowflakes to roll up one single ball,
And millions are needed to build up a fine wall.
Billions of snowflakes must fall down before
The epic snow battle with the kids from next door.
Lovely! 😎
Thank you! It was another fun one to write.
Snowflake
He wasn’t intentionally pedantic, nor did he seek to be awkward. But since he had spent the whole morning, cold penetrating into his very core, he felt entitled to text his science teacher to point out that just because he hadn’t found a duplicate yet didn’t mean he never would.
It will be hard to top yours, but I'll go for it!
I'm sure you'll do great :)
Ouch. She was no good anyway. 😉
He'd done thousands. Millions and billions more were needed. Each snip and cut was second nature now. Perfectly symmetrical snowflakes. Some would form into tremendous sculptures created by children. Others would be launched as missiles. But why symmetrical? “Because,” said the foreman, “if we don't do it, they’ll check!”
Something silly.
Billy listened to the teacher drone on about clouds, evaporation, condensation, and water vapor. All he cared about was rushing home for Christmas break. As every child wishes, it snowed for Christmas. But Billy remembered ALL water eventually evaporates, even pee. No longer did he catch snowflakes on his tongue.
Ah yes, the old proverb: Don't eat the yellow snow!
Ellie was picketing peacefully when the hulking mouth breather in cammo got up in her mug. Quite pleased with himself.
“Go home snowflake!”
“Not a scientist, huh? You just complimented me on my toughness. Ability to withstand a 5,000-meter fall at temps of 4 below. What can you do, dumbass?”
Oh loved this. Glad I didn't read it before submitting my piece. LOL
Ha. Thx I like yours. Remember no two snowflakes are alike lol
So true :)
Very good🤣
Thx! Ice cold