The exercise:
Write about something that is: white.
We certainly had a white Christmas here. Spent the morning at home, then drove down to the farm to have brunch and (more) presents and dinner there. Had to leave home a little ahead of schedule as it started snowing heavily and we didn't want to risk the roads getting any worse.
Thankfully it cleared off by late afternoon and the return drive was reasonably smooth. Overall it was a pretty good day, despite the lack of sleep the night before.
2 comments:
Given how much snow has fallen across North America, it sounds like it wasn't too bad for you! I'm glad you got home before the snow got heavy, and it sounds like you had a pretty good time before that too :) We had snow in London briefly, but that was two weeks ago and now we're mostly on rain. Still, it doesn't often snow in London so I consider a gift that I got it after four years in snow-free Malta :)
Right, I think I might finish the Death story since the prompt allows for it :)
White
"Where did you get this star from?" asked Pestilence, letting the ornament dangle from his fingers. It turned this way and that, yellow and white glimmers of light breaking off it and darting around the room. There was something almost hypnotic about it.
"It's been in my cupboard for a while," said Moros. He grinned, showing bright white teeth that were shinier than the star. "I thought I'd bring it out and get a little bit of use out of it again."
"And by a little while you mean...?"
"Two thousand years, give or take."
War marched into the room and looked at Moros, looked away, and then looked back again like a Looney Tunes double-take.
"You?" he said. "Did I invite you in?"
Scuffles squeaked and War rounded on him. For a moment the ancient Viking War was stood there, yellow hair and muscles aglow with immortal energy, a worn but still sharp war axe in one hand and a wooden shield with teeth-marks round the edges in the other. Then War consciously relaxed and let the energy dissipate.
"Ask for credentials before you let people in," he said. "Moros is ok... just. But I don't want you letting taxmen in. They're worse that cockroaches for getting rid of." He plucked the star from Pestilence's fingers and looked at it as though it was familiar. "You brought this old thing back out?" he said. "Oh good; we'll have more visitors tonight then. I'll go hang it on the tree."
When he left Scuffles let out a deep breath; clearly he'd been holding it.
"He's never anything about taxmen before," he said.
"He doesn't like taxmen," said Famine. "They wear away at him like water at rock. Atrophy, he calls it, but it's probably more like Entropy."
"Do you like taxmen?"
"Oh yes," said Famine, rubbing his body hands together. He was already starting to shrink back to his normal, mostly emaciated self. "Definitely. They can bleed a nation dry in a matter of weeks all the while telling the people that it's for their own good. They're better than leeches."
"What kind of visitors are we getting tonight?" Pestilence looked at Moros who grinned, exposing his snow-white teeth again, so he looked at Death who was just bony-white.
"Well," he said, "I'm expecting a pregnant woman with a man who's her husband but not the father, a donkey, some wise men who are foolish enough to bring expensive gifts but no bodyguards, some shepherds who will be providing the main course for dinner and a little drummer boy that no-one will be able to explain."
Greg - yeah, it's certainly been a lot of snow but nowhere near as bad as some places got it. Now we're back above freezing and dealing with slush and rain and... I'd love it if things just dried up and stayed around this temperature for the next couple months.
And I'm glad you found opportunity to tell a little more of this tale. Moros still seems like he'll be the problem guest, but there's still hope with so many more coming... particularly that drummer. We all know what rock stars can be like at a party...
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