Here is last week’s Tale Weaver prompt, held by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. The prompt is a story about being caught in a deep freeze.
Stuck fast in this ice, no relief,
Car pushed off he highway it’s —
We’re lucky we’re uninjured that,
We’ve signals on our smart phones; night —
There’s no gas left in the tank from,
Starting, then turning off the heat,
Stars bleed —
Giant glimmering balls, twinkle,
Outside our windows; but we’re still —
We called the AMA, come find —
Us because we’re frozen; minus
Nighttime is bitter, freezing we’re,
Huddled beneath silver blankets,
Then he starts shaking, lips so blue,
Then he’s still; hypothermia —
But the sun is rising now; we’ve —
Made it through the dark; my friend he —
Hearing voices outside our car,
Come to save us now, opening —
Light leaks in, such needed warmth; I —
feel my hands, shaking you awake,
©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.
Thanks to Bikurgirl for hosting One- Hundred – Word Wednesday.
The frost on the grass is a warning; it heralds winter’s time. It’s sunny and bright walking outside in the late morning, yet I can feel the bitter chill of the snow storm approaching, numbing my skin
There’s a distinct bitterness in the air and it tastes like freshly fallen snow that doesn’t melt, but freezes your tongue. It’s a nip of coldness which makes you shiver long after you’re snuggled by the warmth of the fire indoors.
I know by night, the great pines and paved trail will be frozen and covered in cotton mounds. The frost will becomes a blanket of white remaining until spring seeps into the frozen north.
©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.
When you see a tire lying emeshed in ice and snow by a frothing icey river, you don’t think much about what you’re seeing. What would a random tire say if it could talk? Would it tell you the story of the SVU it was apart of? There were two young children in the vehicle.
How fast was their mother driving on the slick roads? Sally wasn’t paying attention and was texting and talking on her phone while driving. She was too busy having a conversation with her friend about a playdate. Sally was too busy texting her husband to pick-up milk on the way home. Tom and Isla were playing; they were giggling and laughing in the back seat and were hushed by Sally.
Then the SUV started to hydroplane and Sally tried to break, but the vehicle was spinning and slipping down the side of the road and she couldn’t hault the SUV against the slush and snow. She couldn’t stop it from driving into the river.
Sally remembers the screaming of her children. She doesn’t know how she got out of the SUV, only that she had been crying out for Tommy and Isla from the moment she was dragged from the river. Sally keeps asking for her children. She wants to go back to the river to look for them.
Finally she sees them, white faced with blue lips, eyes closed, and peacefully frozen; they are sculptures. She waits for their tiny chests to rise, to breathe. Even adults who are experienced swimmers can’t survive in raging winter rivers. But Sally waits, tears frozen to her face.
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!
Go Eskimos Go! Bring the Greycup to Edmonton!
©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.