Wednesday January 29th, 2014

The exercise:

Write something which has to do with: snowfall.

Woke this morning to the first major snowfall of the season. Max, naturally, was fascinated:

Also: desperately wanting to go out and play in it. We got there not long after breakfast, though the majority of our time outdoors was spent with me pushing him around the orchard in the wheelbarrow - his idea, not mine.

It was like pushing around a squirming pile of wood.


Silent, fluttering flakes sashay down, down, down. Each patterned crystal has a destination: a fence post, a tree branch, a rooftop, truck bed, abandoned toys. Mostly though? They end up on the ground, piling on top of each other like frozen white pancakes.

Forgive me. That started so poetically before veering off course until it crash landed on breakfast. I should have known better than to aim at such lofty heights. It's just... well, I'm not a particularly smart man. But I'm smart enough to realize that, and with that awareness comes a desire to keep my stupidity hidden.

Behind words, behind silence, whatever it takes. But I have been found out, as usual. It never fails. I have yet to find a disguise that I'm able to maintain for any length of time.

Maybe I should let go, embrace my fate. Like those snowflakes out there. They're not fighting it like I am. Not a care in the world as they tumble from the grey clouds above this city I claim as my home. It seems so simple, really. Just go where the wind takes you. Accept that you have no control. Sounds like a pretty happy existence to me.

Maybe I should go up to the roof and join the snowfall.


Greg said...

Heh, I like that Max's idea of playing in the snow involves you doing all the hard word. I forsee a Calvin and Hobbs style childhood coming up here :)
That's a good picture too, it's quite a Christmassy scene. You should consider selling it next year as a Christmas card at the market.
That's quite a melancholy story, with the snowfall itself providing a nice central thread. Much of the first paragraph raises questions that are never really answered, but the last line hints at an answer that might not be so welcome. Excellent writing!

"£50 on Snowfall, to win." I smiled at the man behind the counter as I offered him the money, but his dour face remained unchanged. Behind me, an old man in a filthy flat cap and enough jumpers that if he fell over he'd surely bounce back upright, cackled.
"That's a mug's bet," he said. "Anyone can see that that horse ain't got a chance. It's mother was a donkey!" He cackled again, much amused by his own wit, and the man behind the counter took my money and handed me a little ticket, the record of my bet.
I turned, tucking the ticket into my wallet, and punched the old man in the face. His cackling disappeared in a gurgle of snot and blood, and the man behind the counter turned away.
"You owe me a tenner," he yelled to someone in the back room.
"Some bugger finally decked him?" A female voice, pregnant with astonishment floated out, followed shortly by a dumpy woman wrapped in a technicolour shawl. "Bloody hell, well that sight's worth a tenner of anybody's money!"
I kicked him in the ribs, not because he deserved it particularly, but because I wanted to be sure that they remembered my face. I needed an established alibi. To my initial surprise, and then growing horror, they joined in. By the time Snowfall had won his race, paying me out over a grand, there was a dead body in the betting shop, and an alibi for the time of death of my wife was the least of my worries.

Marc said...

Greg - hah, yes. He is a clever little boy, which can only spell trouble for me ;)

I'm not entirely sold on the idea of selling pictures of Max. Just not comfortable with... I don't know if profiting on him is the right phrase, but that's the general concept.

Thank you for your thoughts on mine, they are always appreciated.

Oh dear, that plan didn't quite pan out the way he'd intended, did it? The shock of that initial punch was very effective.

Matthew Delavega said...

Saw snow for the first time the other day, the soft white beautiful snow. It just seemed to be laying there waiting for someone to roll it up and throw it at a unsuspecting persons face. Makes your hands numb after holding it, gloves are a good idea for next time.

mte92 said...

It used to mean snow days. Days at the park sliding down hills and enjoying childhood. The cold was barely felt, there was too much fun to be had. It could only mean happiness.
Now its icy roads and bitter cold. Being stuck inside because our errands are now delayed. We observe it from a distance like a fond memory, still aware of its inconvenience.

Marc said...

Matthew - thanks for having a look around the blog and finding another prompt to write on!

I think you've done a good job of capturing the effect of a first sighting of snow. And I like that you end on the thought about the gloves :)

mte92 - and thank you as well for finding another prompt to work with.

Really lovely sentiment here. You've done a fantastic job of conveying the feelings without going over the top with them.

Very, very nice work :)