Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 02/02/2012
The Last Snowflake
Born 1963, M, from Leek, United KingdomAt Cloud Central things were getting interesting. The cloud in question was so full of water, it kept hitting the tops of tall buildings and hills as it dragged its heavy cargo across the countryside. If clouds could talk this one would be swearing, a lot.
Inside, all the tiny droplets of water were waiting. They stood in long rows like nervous soldiers, looking for signs from their cloud mother that it would soon be time to go.
Unfortunately, a few impatient drops couldn’t wait for Momma’s big green light, so they just jumped anyway and hoped for the best. The cloud hardly felt a thing as a few thousand droplets all joined hands and shouted ‘Geronimo’!
Sadly, the cold North Wind was far too busy making pretty patterns on a large lake to notice the kamikaze bunch as they slipped past him, catching a team of practising footballers by surprise. The coach tried to put up his large golfing brolly, but the shower was over before it opened.
High above in the heavily pregnant cloud, the light switched from red to amber and five billion babies all shouted ‘Yes!’
“Any second now” said Sam, a fat little female, shaking like a watery jelly. She didn’t have to wait long. The amber light flickered, dimmed and was replaced by a bright green “GO”. The mother cloud thought about adding some special effects, like thunder or lightening. After all it was nearly Christmas. At the very last second she decided against it, so as not to frighten a large herd of cow’s right underneath her trailing skirts.
Right on cue, the North wind stopped doodling and went to meet the latest batch of wannabe snowflakes. A migrating flock of Canada Geese put pay to the dreams of a few thousand, as they sliced through them in a huge grey arrow formation. Luckily, Sam wasn’t amongst this first wave. She was busy trying to unstick herself from a small red spider that had hitched a ride over from France.
“You need to shake your third leg, not your fourth!” screamed Sam, pulling and twisting as hard as she could. The spider was far too busy repairing a small hole in his cobweb parachute to hear her.
“This cannot be happening to me”. Yelled Sam. Come on, or I’ll miss my chance!” She could see all her brothers and sisters below her, whooping with excitement. Finally, the spider stepped back to examine his handiwork and felt a little trickle of water on the hairs of his third leg, so he shook her off.
“Ye-s!” yelled Sam, feeling the air rushing past her chubby little body as she fought to stay in shape.
“They never mentioned this at flight school.” Every few seconds her arms and legs would break free and Sam had to suck them back in again before they left her body for good.
A few thousand feet below, the North Wind was working his magic. He liked this part of the job, because he got to create something amazing for a change. Most of the time he just pushed stuff about, like some old caretaker pushing an icy broom. Talking of ice, he started blowing gently on the water babies, as though they were pollen. Little by little the soft squidgy droplets began to freeze. He gave them tiny transparent bones from which new hands and feet started to sprout.
He also loved the sound they made as they froze - like someone rubbing the side of a balloon. A billion or so laughing, squeaking snowflakes is a noise the wind never wants to forget.
Sam was getting closer. She squeezed herself into a narrow spikey shape so she could fall a bit faster. It seemed to be working. The wind got louder and louder. Above the streets and houses, flurries of just - born snowflakes whirled and danced. Some stuck to chimney pots and TV aerials. Others banded together in clumps, for safety.
The earliest arrivals sacrificed themselves, melting into the tarmac like tiny white ghosts. Before long though, they stopped melting and started settling. Delicate lace footprints began appearing on the streets and pavements as more and more snowflakes were born.
And then, as quick as it had begun, the snowflakes stopped falling. People looked up into the sky, their mouths wide open, as if to say “is that it?” The North Wind stopped blowing too and had a quick look around to check for any stragglers.
“Hey! Yelled Sam, as loud as she could. Wait for me!” It was too late; the North Wind sighed deeply and started to move away. This was a disaster for Sam. She’d come so far. It couldn’t end like this, it just couldn’t.
Now, as a rule, an empty-headed cloud isn’t the most reliable of mothers, but for some reason this one had very good hearing. She heard Sam’s tiny voice and decided to help out. Even though it was most definitely ‘against the rules’ she produced a small bolt of lightning and fired it right in front of the winds face.
“What the... said the North Wind looking upwards. Doesn’t she read her own memos?” As he looked up he caught sight of something twinkling in the sunlight. He moved a little higher and saw a small, fairly insignificant water droplet falling like a dart.
“There’s always one.” Said the wind, smiling broadly. He took a deep breath, as though he was about to blow down a large tree and let fly. By the time it reached Sam it wasn’t half as strong, and she felt herself changing as she fell to earth.
So this is what it’s like – being a snowflake? She thought, as she stared wide-eyed at the new icy ball gown forming around her. The kind North Wind sighed for the last time and blew off to make some mischief with a so-called windproof skyscraper.
In back gardens all over town, children were already throwing snowballs and making snowmen and women, while their parents took them gloves and hot cups of tea. In one particular house though, there were no children playing, nor were there any signs of life, at all. Sam was almost at the ground, and she too sighed and smiled like the North Wind, because her only wish had finally been granted and she didn’t mind what happened next.
On the top floor of the dark, silent house a window creaked open and a rather wrinkly hand came out. The hand belonged to a very sad old lady who had just lost her husband. She shivered at the cold air on her hand and was just about to pull it in when she squinted up into the sky.
“It can’t be.” She said, screwing up her red-rimmed eyes.
“You’d better believe it!” shouted Sam as she threw out her tiny frosted arms and legs. The old lady slowly opened her fingers and watched as Sam came to rest on her cold bony hand. A face that had cried so many tears the night before, cried one more just as Sam, the last little snowflake melted away.
© Simon Daniels
The Last Snowflake(Simon Daniels)
At Cloud Central things were getting interesting. The cloud in question was so full of water, it kept hitting the tops of tall buildings and hills as it dragged its heavy cargo across the countryside. If clouds could talk this one would be swearing, a lot.
Inside, all the tiny droplets of water were waiting. They stood in long rows like nervous soldiers, looking for signs from their cloud mother that it would soon be time to go.
Unfortunately, a few impatient drops couldn’t wait for Momma’s big green light, so they just jumped anyway and hoped for the best. The cloud hardly felt a thing as a few thousand droplets all joined hands and shouted ‘Geronimo’!
Sadly, the cold North Wind was far too busy making pretty patterns on a large lake to notice the kamikaze bunch as they slipped past him, catching a team of practising footballers by surprise. The coach tried to put up his large golfing brolly, but the shower was over before it opened.
High above in the heavily pregnant cloud, the light switched from red to amber and five billion babies all shouted ‘Yes!’
“Any second now” said Sam, a fat little female, shaking like a watery jelly. She didn’t have to wait long. The amber light flickered, dimmed and was replaced by a bright green “GO”. The mother cloud thought about adding some special effects, like thunder or lightening. After all it was nearly Christmas. At the very last second she decided against it, so as not to frighten a large herd of cow’s right underneath her trailing skirts.
Right on cue, the North wind stopped doodling and went to meet the latest batch of wannabe snowflakes. A migrating flock of Canada Geese put pay to the dreams of a few thousand, as they sliced through them in a huge grey arrow formation. Luckily, Sam wasn’t amongst this first wave. She was busy trying to unstick herself from a small red spider that had hitched a ride over from France.
“You need to shake your third leg, not your fourth!” screamed Sam, pulling and twisting as hard as she could. The spider was far too busy repairing a small hole in his cobweb parachute to hear her.
“This cannot be happening to me”. Yelled Sam. Come on, or I’ll miss my chance!” She could see all her brothers and sisters below her, whooping with excitement. Finally, the spider stepped back to examine his handiwork and felt a little trickle of water on the hairs of his third leg, so he shook her off.
“Ye-s!” yelled Sam, feeling the air rushing past her chubby little body as she fought to stay in shape.
“They never mentioned this at flight school.” Every few seconds her arms and legs would break free and Sam had to suck them back in again before they left her body for good.
A few thousand feet below, the North Wind was working his magic. He liked this part of the job, because he got to create something amazing for a change. Most of the time he just pushed stuff about, like some old caretaker pushing an icy broom. Talking of ice, he started blowing gently on the water babies, as though they were pollen. Little by little the soft squidgy droplets began to freeze. He gave them tiny transparent bones from which new hands and feet started to sprout.
He also loved the sound they made as they froze - like someone rubbing the side of a balloon. A billion or so laughing, squeaking snowflakes is a noise the wind never wants to forget.
Sam was getting closer. She squeezed herself into a narrow spikey shape so she could fall a bit faster. It seemed to be working. The wind got louder and louder. Above the streets and houses, flurries of just - born snowflakes whirled and danced. Some stuck to chimney pots and TV aerials. Others banded together in clumps, for safety.
The earliest arrivals sacrificed themselves, melting into the tarmac like tiny white ghosts. Before long though, they stopped melting and started settling. Delicate lace footprints began appearing on the streets and pavements as more and more snowflakes were born.
And then, as quick as it had begun, the snowflakes stopped falling. People looked up into the sky, their mouths wide open, as if to say “is that it?” The North Wind stopped blowing too and had a quick look around to check for any stragglers.
“Hey! Yelled Sam, as loud as she could. Wait for me!” It was too late; the North Wind sighed deeply and started to move away. This was a disaster for Sam. She’d come so far. It couldn’t end like this, it just couldn’t.
Now, as a rule, an empty-headed cloud isn’t the most reliable of mothers, but for some reason this one had very good hearing. She heard Sam’s tiny voice and decided to help out. Even though it was most definitely ‘against the rules’ she produced a small bolt of lightning and fired it right in front of the winds face.
“What the... said the North Wind looking upwards. Doesn’t she read her own memos?” As he looked up he caught sight of something twinkling in the sunlight. He moved a little higher and saw a small, fairly insignificant water droplet falling like a dart.
“There’s always one.” Said the wind, smiling broadly. He took a deep breath, as though he was about to blow down a large tree and let fly. By the time it reached Sam it wasn’t half as strong, and she felt herself changing as she fell to earth.
So this is what it’s like – being a snowflake? She thought, as she stared wide-eyed at the new icy ball gown forming around her. The kind North Wind sighed for the last time and blew off to make some mischief with a so-called windproof skyscraper.
In back gardens all over town, children were already throwing snowballs and making snowmen and women, while their parents took them gloves and hot cups of tea. In one particular house though, there were no children playing, nor were there any signs of life, at all. Sam was almost at the ground, and she too sighed and smiled like the North Wind, because her only wish had finally been granted and she didn’t mind what happened next.
On the top floor of the dark, silent house a window creaked open and a rather wrinkly hand came out. The hand belonged to a very sad old lady who had just lost her husband. She shivered at the cold air on her hand and was just about to pull it in when she squinted up into the sky.
“It can’t be.” She said, screwing up her red-rimmed eyes.
“You’d better believe it!” shouted Sam as she threw out her tiny frosted arms and legs. The old lady slowly opened her fingers and watched as Sam came to rest on her cold bony hand. A face that had cried so many tears the night before, cried one more just as Sam, the last little snowflake melted away.
© Simon Daniels
- Share this story on
- 6
COMMENTS (0)