Sentimental Snow

 

Friederike lay in bed and the blanket, cotton, weighed across her legs and resisted her hands as they tugged, though with less determination today. Propped up she resembled a queen settled to receive her morning breakfast. Outside the snow was falling. Quickly at first but slower now. Each flake hit the glass as silently as what life had come to for Friederike, who watched with her head craned toward the window as if the monotony of snowfall was something never to be taken for granted.

I wonder how the weather is at Jennifer’s today. 

Friederike checked the clock. Maybe schools will announce a snow day. The children would be thrilled at the news once they woke up. 

She smiled as their excitement warmed her imagination, conjured by the senses of her own memories.

Unfortunate Unicorn

 

     “There, there,” she sang and stroked the base of his snout with her good hand to make his nostrils flare in response. “You love the shade of the grove, don’t you?”

     The unicorn pushed passed her until he reached the swaying drapes of the nearest wisteria. It made him quiet and softened the dry look of bewilderment in his eyes. Sometimes when Sarah brought him here his breathing shifted from his usual pulsing grunt to something so whispery and light he may have been singing a song, if animals could sing songs. But why the grove cast this spell of serenity over him was a secret for the unicorn alone, along with why he never left her side and why he had chosen Sarah of all the other villagers to enslave.

     She did not flinch when the tears began to fall. Among the wisteria was his only distraction. With her right hand she got to work spreading the healing mucous of his snout she had collected, instantly clotting the blood that glistened over the gashes on her knees and ankles. Nothing could be done for the broken bones of her left.

Image by Natalialix on Pixabay

The Flower

I am not the flower.

I am the plant.

The flower only grows in season.

You celebrate the bloom while it lives; sigh at its demise when it falls.

But I am not the flower.

I am the plant.

You want me to be the flower.

I am not the flower.

I am the seed buried and bursted through layers of soil - dark - 

reaching for light and grasping for water. 

I am the plant.

Lost Lake

 

Hari could not understand why she took that next step onto the ice. The instant she heard the sound of something breaking, she should have turned back to the solidarity of the snow bank. But Kallik beckoned to her from the center of the pond, hand held out as though he already had her there. His gentle, hypnotic voice tethered her to him while Hari’s throat ached. Her cotton scarf held no warmth against the cold. Why didn’t she plant her feet this instant and refuse to suppress her instincts? She screamed when the ground gave way. If she had only gasped instead, she might have gathered some strength. Strangled between the agony freezing her blood and the searing in her lungs, she suffocated. That same hand luring her onto the lake strained to reach her now, but Hari’s limbs were paralyzed, and she could not reach back.

Image by wal_172619 from Pixbay

Concert Collapse

 

     When thunder clapped over the concert, he belted the high note of his greatest hit and collapsed. Maybe he had been reaching for the floor the entire show, knees shaking. Surely there had been more than one sign, an out-of-rhythm sway, a slurred lyric, because everyone watching, from the pit to the nosebleeds would later remember predicting it. As clouds sank heavy over their heads, promising rain, they knew, just knew. Not only was his collapse a certainty, they had it pictured in their minds: forceful, as if he were shoved aside and trampled. They were all looking right at him when the thunder echoed. The music continued to blast the outro through the speakers, heavy bass vibrating under their feet with the storm rumbling in their ears. No one moved. The fans who were sober and the ones who were drunk, the locals, the foreigners, everyone waited for permission to breathe again while suspicion grew that this was all their fault. They had loved him too hard, begged for him too long, driven him to exhaustion in exchange for their euphoria.

Photo by Sebastian Ervi on Unsplash