NOTE: This is a short story that I wrote for my English class.
I am just a snowflake, a crystallized drop of water. I am unique; no other snowflake is like me. Since I am rather old, I have been through the process of evaporation plenty of times. Every time I fall from a cloud, I always wish it were my last fall. But the ‘Big Snowflake’ in the sky doesn’t think it is yet my time. He took my dear Lucy, but why won’t he take me?
I miss Lucy. She was my wife. I remember the day when her and I got married. We said our vows, promising to love each other until death do us part. Five minutes after the wedding ceremony, we were drifting together down slowly to the ground. Two cycles of evaporation ago, she didn’t make it, and instead was used to help a flower bloom in the springtime. I want to go the same way, hoping that I meet up with my Lucy in whatever afterlife there is for a snowflake.
My thoughts of Lucy are interrupted when an old friend of mine, his name was Luther, calls out to all of the snowflakes, “Prepare for the fall!”
Luther and I met when be both first became snowflakes. Every journey we have had in a cloud, we have always said our goodbyes and parted ways. But after falling to the ground we always seemed to meet up again. Whether it was being shoveled into the same snow pile, or being rolled into a head for a snowman.
Luther slowly walked over to me and sighed. “Well another journey in a cloud has come and gone, hasn’t it?”
“It sure has,” I agreed. “I am hoping this may be my last journey too.”
“Me too,” Luther replied. “I am no longer young, and evaporation sure does takes its toll.
I nodded my head in agreement as I glanced toward the chaos Luther created amongst the young snowflakes. The younger one tended to panic. Which, of course, is understandable. Leaving the shelter of a cloud to fall to the ground may seem scary.
“Well,” I started, turning back to look at Luther, “I say we should part ways now.”
“I agree,” he replied. “Good luck, but I am sure we will be crossing path once again very soon.”
“Good luck to you too,” I said, laughing.
Luther gave me a parting smile before going to console two snowflakes. I turned back to the chaos. Almost immediately, a snowflake couple, standing not too far by, caught my eye. The two snowflakes were named Renee and Samuel, and just the day before they had gotten married.
“I am so afraid,” Renee cried.
“Renee,” pleaded Samuel, “please stop crying, I beg of you. Everything will be all right. I promise.” He emphasized the words ‘I promise’.
Renee sniffed. “What if we get separated?”
“We won’t,” he promised. “We made vows to each other yesterday that we will stay together until ‘death do us part’. Well today, will not, be the day that that happens. Now hold onto me.”
Renee nodded, and simultaneously they joined together.
It’s very common for snowflakes to do that. Humans think they are seeing a large snowflake, but they are wrong. They are seeing two snowflakes in love; two snowflakes who don’t want to, who refuse to, be separated. Lucy and I used to do that. But like I said before, that was up until two cycles of evaporation ago.
Not much later, the snowflakes and I began to fall. I drifted down slowly. I didn’t see what was the rush now. The younger snowflakes, though, came up with games like who-could-reach-the-ground-first or who-could-the-most-flips-without-getting-sick-or-dizzy. I used to play those games, but like I said before, I am no longer young.
