Monday, April 4, 2011

Writing Prompt #8 - Snowflake

So, it hit 101 degrees here last week and I've officially decided I will be moving out of Arizona in the near future. I have my eye on a spot in California, but I need money first. Until then, I decided I'd make this week's writing prompt winter themed.

Remember, you can write as little or as much as you'd like, and if you want, you can post your response to the prompt right here. **All work is under copyright of its authors**

Here we go....

Your character(s) is standing in the middle of an iced-over lake, staring up at the sky as a snowflake drifts down toward them...

Salina caught the snowflake on her tongue, just like Drew used to do in the earlier years of their relationship. She waited until it melted, made a wish - for the snowfall to never stop - and then sat cross-legged on the surface of the lake.

Pulling the small notebook from the pocket of her jacket, Salina opened it to the place she had bookmarked earlier and began reciting the words scribbled on the pages -

"When the earth breaks, the wind will fall silent. Stars fall from the darkened sky like the snowflakes in winter. As the Great Witch wanders, the one called Chaos rises up, challenging those who would defy the coming war. While my soul, a dark doorway, seals shut to protect the contents within, your love is the key to open it wide and empty my heart of the hatred and violence I feast on."

Salina shut the book and stuck it back into her pocket. Standing to her feet, she was careful not to slip and fall through the ice. That's how Drew died three days ago. She found it to be no coincidence that he passed from this world shortly after he had written these words in his little notebook. Salina knew the Great Witch existed, hunting humans on other worlds. Her dreams had told her so.

But the one called Chaos...she had never seen him before, not in her dreams, not anywhere. Drew always told her that if she wanted to know about anything in this world, she should look in a book. That even though we called most novels fiction, they were far from make-believe. Most of what people wrote were really their dreams, and dreams opened the doorways to reality.

But so did love. Out of her other pocket, she pulled a small heart-shaped locket. Inside, she stuffed the paper fortune Drew had pulled from the cookie at the Chinese restaurant a week earlier - "The blacker the midnight, the brighter the moon." Salina tossed the locket out across the surface of the lake, watching as it slid across the solid surface, spun a bit, as if it were ice skating, and then stopped, the silver surface glistening in its white surroundings.

"I loved you with a love that unlocked doors," Salina whispered.

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