We were to write a flash fiction story in exactly 144 words including a line from the poem, by Rita Dove called “November for Beginners.” The chosen line was “Snow would be the easy way out.” See the Poets Pub here. And other works of flash prose here.
I grew up expecting snow every winter. Sometimes crunchy—always white until later when it would die as wet, ugly, slush. I loved going outside and experiencing feelings that I only felt when I walked on a cold windless night in fresh snow.
It was always coming, and I knew that snow would be the easy way out—out of my life’s tiring and tedious problems (at least for now), as my insecurities about myself were silently made insignificant. It could never be more than one night at a time before the world’s reality marred snow’s existence and mine.
The snow didn’t know or care about my problems. I was welcome to be as I was with snow. While it made my world go silent, it seemed to hear me and to know what I needed without ever saying a word. We had secrets.
I suppose this is interior monologue rather than a story, but it works for me.
Our Literary Journey 
It may be an interior monologue, Bill, but it has a beginning, middle and end, and it works for me too. I like the descriptions of different types of snow, and love the final paragraph and the thought of snow keeping secrets.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your final two sentences are just perfect. I’ve been there!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Peter.
LikeLike
I agree wholeheartedly with Kim. Your interior monologue tells a story and it’s beautifully written.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Dale. Years since I’ve seen “live” snow, and more years since I’ve done such a walk.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I bet. You’ll just have to visit Montréal in the winter 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do love the way you use this monologue to tell a story that leave exactly the perfect amount for the reader to fill in the blank.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Björn.
LikeLike
Beautiful writing. A blanket of snow may well be the place to keep your secrets.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
” I loved going outside and experiencing feelings that I only felt when I walked on a cold windless night in fresh snow.”
I love those nights. Nothing ever feels so quiet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you liked it. Them was in my PA days. 🙂
LikeLike
Good story and especially liked the last paragraph. Snow is good for putting one in a particular frame of mind. Knowing where you live, that feeling is amplified when snow does arrive 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lisa.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully written. There is something special about the quiet of new snow, and I can imagine the peace of those walks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merril.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Bill.
LikeLiked by 1 person