A while ago I was in the school library with a couple of friends, at lunch, to do some creative writing. We each picked a season to write about, and I picked Winter. I know, it’s a bit cliché but I enjoyed doing this tiny prose and so I thought I would post it.
Delicate snowflakes eddyed from the ash sky and melted on her eyelashes. A crown of glistening droplets adorned her baby hairs as she trudged through the snow. Her cheeks and nose were rosy and freckled, her countenance solumn- yet she was content trampling crystalline ice over white hills. Miles of this frozen landscape dipped and rised, with a trail of footprints fading behind the girl.
Stumbling, panting, aching. My legs and shoulders burned from an excruciating weight. The waves thrashing at my tear gates did not extinguish the fire, but sent billows of potent smoke into the air which choked and blinded me. I heard a twig snap ahead, and peered through the haze to make out the shape of one of my teammates. She turned around rolling her eyes, “Hurry up Flo,” she sighed “we’re almost there.” They were losing their patience so I didn’t ask for a break. Insecurities engulfed my ego, my positivity, exclusion inundated my brain, my countenance.
As you may have guessed, I enjoy writing short pieces. This is a snippet of one I wrote about a recent experience. Hope you enjoyed