The Life of a Snowflake – The Writeycorn

The Life of a Snowflake

“Hi” I said and my best friend Bob said “hi”. This is a normal morning for a snowflake, yeah I am a snowflake most of us were born here but some were transferred from other clouds. There are 5 stations to our cloud the 1st is when you enter the cloud, it is like security in what you humans call an “airport”, the 2nd is low class estate where the lowest of the low live. The 3rd is a work station where you work, there are other stations in the work station but I’ll talk about it later. The 4th is where I live (middle class) it is kind of nice, the 5th is top class it is modern and very posh. I am a testing snowflake so I test new ways of flying and walking. I have got to go because my very annoying dad and sister are trying to get me to write about death and misery and destruction.

Sorry bye.

Today I wrote  between 20:25 and 20:35.  I was prompted by an idea here.

The Life of a Snowflake – Dead Deer

The Life of a Snowflake

“Hello,” she exclaimed, half leaning out of the upper window, “Why are you here? What does this mean?”

He did not mind this unwelcoming welcome, in fact, he was so far from surprised by it his only expectation had been for a far worse one. He waved, slightly, his straight smile fulfilling its usual role. Unsummoned by him it did, regretably, always seem to provide a non-committal entry, at least.

“I suppose I ought to offer you a cuppa,”, Laura coldly offered, before adding, icily, “although truly I should turf you out.”

“Thank you, a tea would be lovely. Lovely indeed.” His conciliatory air was quite natural. “It truly is a wonderful situation you have here. I have often longed for a nearby river in a home, better still, a stream running through your lawn. It is quite, quite enchanting.” Genuine, all this. “Yes. You really ought to turf me out. Actually, I really ought to not be here, putting you in this situation. I would truly like to apologise, but what would it mean? I would still be here.”

Laura reflected now, and later, on this honesty. He was an honest person, that had never been a question. Yes, she mused, and a good one. It is just. Well, it really is not on, is it, what he did. What he does.

He warmly complemented the tea. It really was delicious. He took a deep breath.

“Is she here?”

Laura’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, yet he perceived it, just. No, she thought, my sister is not here, and if I am correct then he really ought to know that.

She sighed. ‘What now?’ eased its slow progress through her mind. The water continued its slow journey through the garden, along the stream.

 

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Today I wrote  between 20:01 and 20:11.  I was prompted by an idea here.

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