Tuesday, 13 September 2011
03:23:11 PM (GMT)
"Currently, the temperature is thirty-two degrees, with snowy conditions."
I stare at my screen. Nothing. I click the blue refresh button, but it's still the
same thing.. I shiver, and take my warm blanket off the side of my bed. It's a cold
I click refresh again, watching the future with my own eyes. I see the screen turn
blue, and my eyes now light up. It's sure to happen. I'm nearly positive.
As I wait, I whistle a high tune being played, and my air stream falters a few times.
I'm not good at whistling. But it's fun to try. I like feeling the blast of cool air
on the inside of my soft lips when I blow. But they freeze up so quickly, it's like
ice cubes are growing around my mouth.
I watch carefully, and finally see that the screen is blue. So I rise from my bed, in
only my orange shirt, since I love to sleep in it. Not caring about how revealing my
night outfit was, and whether or not my brother saw me, I rushed down the stairs, and
fumbled to hit the light switch.
I stand in front of the window, my breath being taken away by the cold just as
quickly as it returned. The glass fogs up, but I quickly wipe it away with my small
fingers, carefully examining the scene.
White... It's everywhere. The small snowflakes dance outside my window. It's nearly
unreal, like a screensaver you'd get for your computer. I have to reach out and touch
the glass with my trembling hand just to make sure I wasn't dreaming the beautiful
I stare at the delicate white creatures as they flutter and fly. The wind picks up.
It's almost like I can see the little lines, as you would in a cartoon, and a little
puff of air as the wind blows through the sky. But I know it's just my imagination.
The white flakes pick up as the wind does, and I watch as it looks like a mini
blizzard. The petite morsels quickly slow down, though, and start dancing like the
little angels they are.
After all, they're all falling from heaven, right?
My fingers slip down the glass as I breathe hard against it. My breath almost
disappears again as the ground whitens, covering up the rain that fell for what
seemed like eternities on end. But the tiny critters won't stop. Not for the rain.
Not for anyone.
It's like they're born to fall, born to reach the ground.
Or maybe they just want to be noticed. Perhaps that's it..
They say every snowflake is different. Each one is unique in size, shape, shade.
But I think that each has a personality. A unique one, that no other snowflake can
imitate. The ones that fly and bump into you have are malcontents, who want to boss
the other little snowflakes around. Or, maybe they're elder snowflakes. And the small
ones are just babies, or children. They slowly flutter and fall to the ground, as if
it's a soft cushion or bed.
But, in our eyes, they're all the same, aren't they? Maybe the snowflakes feel..
Rejected. Neglected. Unneeded.
Maybe they feel that way. If they've got human personalities, then they surely have
feelings, too, right? Maybe I'm crazy. But as I watch them.. I can't help but get
sad. Feelings of nostalgia and depressed arouse inside my very stomach. I know that I
feel that way.. And maybe they feel that way.
It's not like we can tell, but perhaps they do. It's just snow, we think, nothing
But perhaps they are special.
Just think about it for a moment, please.
Maybe they're sad.. Maybe they're happy, or maybe they're depressed. Maybe some are
self conscious to fall, and that's why they flutter too slowly. They're just like us,
I suppose. Maybe some are scared that they're too fat, or too tiny. They're afraid
that the other snowflakes resting on the same bed of white will make fun of them, or
laugh at their colour, size, shape. After all, don't we all feel that way, sometimes?
Maybe some are sad that they don't get noticed. They all seem to blend in, in our
But as sadness takes over me, I realize that I feel the same way. My eyes droop as I
try to pick out the sad ones. You can tell if they're sad, the way they flutter. I
try to slow it all down with my eyes, just to pick out the personalities, like I'd do
in the school hallways. And I do.
I can tell which are sad, which are mean, angry, happy, having fun.. The way they
move. The way they flutter. Listen. The next time it snows, listen closely. Can you
hear them? When you go outside and it's completely calm, no snow is falling.. You
know that dead silence you hear?
Well, guess what.. It's not really silent, I think.
I imagine each snowflake.. And it's like I can hear them speak to me. Asking who I
am, greeting me, laughing with their friends..
It's such an odd way of looking at things, but I love to give things personalties. At
the same time, though.. I think they already do have personalties. And how do you
think they feel when they get crushed by a tire from your mother's car?
It's a sad idea. Because we wouldn't like to be crushed by a bully..
They're still talking to me, I can hear it. They're whispers are sweet, like candy
canes and the sight of sparkly tinsel.
I take a deep breath, and breath out. My heart pounds.. I'm thinking of you.
Those snowflakes just want to be noticed.. What could I do to help, I think..
I close my eyes, and imagine myself racing through my house, trying to get to a door.
I need to be in the outside world. I open the door, not even shutting it as my feet
collide with the powder. It's soft and cold, but my feet numb quickly. My little arms
shiver, but the cold doesn't stop me. I run, run into my driveway, and look up at the
night sky. Holding out my hands, I watch as the snowflakes fall, pushing each other
and shoving. Some are so nice, though, just slowly falling down. I try to pick out a
certain snowflake to look at, and, finally, I spot one, running just barely, I watch
it slowly fall, and I cup my hands.
This snow flake.. It's so sad.. I can tell. As it falls, I gently catch it in my
small, trembling hands. Sniffling softly, I open my hands back up, and watch as the
little white speck fades.. One lonely snowflake.. It fell into my hands. I did
something about it. I set my other hand on the back of this one, and set them to my
Dear, I'm thinking about you. I caught this little guy just for you.
And that's when I have to open my eyes.. The fantasy disappears, and, once again, I'm
simply standing in front of my window. My body is shivering.. I need to go. I take my
small fingers off the glass, and watch as they fall. I slow them down again.. I
almost swear that I can see one wave to me.. Hear it calling out..
Bye, bye little human. Thank you for helping my friend!
That's what I hear it say.. With a rather shocked look on my face, I find that I wave
to the little guy, a little nervous. For what reason? I'm not positive.. But it's
almost like the snowflakes have the souls of loved ones that've died. I feel that.. I
knew that snowflake.. Or, perhaps, they're duplicates of live loved ones.
Their personalities seem so alike to people.. I even assign them names in my head,
marking them down inside so I'll never forget the tiny, demure snowflake that had the
guts to thank me.
I nod slowly, and let my hand fall back down. I close my eyes.. And turn to run back
up the stairs. I've said goodbye, it's time to go..
I reenter my room, and fall back onto my soft bed.
I close my eyes, and think about that snowflake..
You're still in my thoughts.
This happens to be something I wrote in December '10. It's nothing special.
Last edited: 13 September 2011