It hasn’t snowed this much since I was little. It’s definitely iced over quite a few times, and we got a random snow day at the beginning of Spring recently, but this much? No way. Everyone is boggled by it. Crunching through the thickening powder reminded me of a scene I wrote for a Creative Writing class recently. The instructor, author Brian W. Smith, wanted us to use as many senses in our scene as possible and gave us character names and an image to work from. It was quite a fun and educational class and I’m incredibly grateful for his teaching.
Lisa could smell the farm before she saw it. Horses and pigs hadn’t been housed there for years, but they had left their mark, as it were, in a bitter-sweet musk that carried a mile up the road. As she pulled up she saw the bare, frozen trees reaching out like a spoiled child in a candy shop. Snow crunched wetly underfoot as she walked toward the dilapidated farmhouse with its broken windows and peeling siding and she wondered what brought her here, year after year, on this anniversary date.
Mark wasn’t coming back.
Salty tears burned on her tongue, but they were part of the tradition now. A bird called out sympathetically, she guessed, and she waved appreciatively. “I’m good,” she said lightly. “I’ll be all right.” She would, too. But not this year.
To make sure we don’t end on a depressing note, I’ll throw in another scene from that class:
The oomph-oomph-oomph of the bass was overwhelming but Mike sipped his bitter drink and decided to grin and bear it. If it got him laid, he’d tolerate a lot. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks by incautious dancers so he tried not to move much; the sensation sent nauseating flares of disgust up his spine. His nostrils flared. Through the haze of tobacco he thought he could smell something better – someone was blazing, probably trying to tolerate this place as much as he was. He squinted through the smoke, following his nose, and saw a young man standing alone by some kind of fake plant, looking bored and miserable. Target acquired.
February 14, 2021