Monday, December 27, 2004

380. Because the snow fell a day late, they walked out that night onto snow that sparkled in the streetlight. They walked down the road, through the woods to the lake, a journey they had taken before, washed new and white. Fog drifted above the waters, enveloping the night in the city's holiday glow. They make a game of acting out their last journey: He follows her and tries to synchronize the rhythm of his steps to the rhythm of her steps. It's a slower, quieter chase, muted by the snow carpet. This time she lets him catch her without a struggle and he holds on tight. Hugging her was coming home. They stay within each others gaze for the rest of the evening, hoping that the morning will be just as glorious. If they don't break the spell, it will. The day will twinkle, sparkle, shoot forth its single bits.


Blogger mis_nomer said...


2:57 am  
Blogger Jd*96 said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:15 pm  
Blogger Jd*96 said...

If she took a scoopful of snow, and kept it in a jar in the freezer. When she wanted to re create the moment she could take the jar from the freezer. Move happiness from hand to hand and let the happiness seep into her skin like a perfume of the time.

11:34 pm  
Blogger 4thra said...

Thankyou for the continuation of the post. This is a way of evolving the project that I would like to see more of. Voluntary contributions are always welcome within this collaboration as it is a way of futher expanding the meanings and contexts of the original lines and of being more inclusive of the work of other writers. Please carry on finishing what we've started, We'd like to see where the story goes.

11:46 am  

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