By Lyndon James
The explosion under the armoured vehicle throws clouds of dust high into the clear desert sky. One mote soars to the very edge of space while, far below, a fractured world slowly turns.
Eventually, the speck begins to tumble and dropping through the moist, freezing clouds, six icy fingers grow in intricate patterns, never repeating. The sun’s myriad spectrum refracts through the crystal fronds giving an illusion of white purity, belying its grubby heart.
The child, wrapped up warm, for the first time since her father died so far away, giggles as the snowflake lands on the tip of her nose.
A great and beautiful journey
War and Peace. Lovely.
A sentimental journey without becoming overly emotional. Nice writing.
Stunning. This is definitely today’s Winner!
Nice…
I love the description of how a snowflake is made. I also understood it as the little girl is giggling at a snowflake that comes from her father’s death in the explosion. Is this belaboring the obvious. It made me feel very sad and I thought the story was powerful.
Perfect.
Hi everyone. Many thanks for your very kind and generous comments, they’re very much appreciated. I’m thrilled that you enjoyed reading my story.
Sad and powerful. Very visual too.
Thank you
I must’ve missed this when it first came out — so glad I go to read it, Lyndon. Fantastic piece!
Hi John, many thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it.