Snow Angels

FLASH MOB 2013  is a hybrid competition/blog carnival to celebrate International Flash Fiction Day on June 22nd. Here’s my entry.

Snow Angels

The constant hum and buzz of the city is replaced by distinct sounds, a door slamming, children laughing.

‘Come and make a snow angel with me, Granddad. I’ll show you what to do’. Sophie pulls Patrick up from the bench by the hand and leads him over to an undisturbed spot in the communal garden, pointing to the ground. Patrick lies down cursing his ageing bones. He closes his eyes and moves his body but to another voice.

The trees are glazed in white in the warmth of a winter sun. He is a young man, here with his unit marching to battle. The children play in the soft powder of last night’s snowfall. Patrick watches them for a while then gestures to a pretty girl with long black hair, eight maybe nine, to let him join in. His arms and legs move slowly pushing the snow aside to her instructions even though he cannot tell what she is saying. He feels the sun on his face and for a moment, the fighting is forgotten. Afterwards he divides his chocolate ration between the children, slipping the young girl an extra piece when no one else is looking. Then he gathers his troops and sets off for the front.

The soldiers come back the next week, fewer in number. The snow and the people have gone. All that remains are the smoldering remains of what was once a village.

His granddaughter is shaking him now, crying out his name. Patrick opens his eyes and smiles back at the frightened child standing over him, whispering words of reassurance. He struggles to his feet, wiping his tears with his scarf as he does. He reaches into his pocket for chocolate and breaks off an extra piece for her.

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About Peter Domican
Marketer and change professional. Writer and photographer.

One Response to Snow Angels

  1. Nice the way this moves from present to past and back again. I like the opening of this piece. It’s gentle, and real.

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