A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Snow Day

Cara swore and pulled her glove back on. The board in front of her had keys, actual physical unwieldy things, and even the thin layer of cloth made them impossible to use. But the weather in the outskirts was unpredictable, and this bunker was sitting in a field covered in frost. Every time she took the gloves off her fingers began to sting, and then slowly stopped listening to what she wanted, growing clumsy enough to hit multiple buttons on their own.

She sat back on her haunches and arched her back, working out the kinks caused by huddling on the ground. As her hands warmed up for the fifth time, she looked around at the short spiky brown grass, covered it tiny white crystals.

“It might snow,” she thought, and then almost laughed. It was one she hadn’t had since she was a child, and it still carried the promise of staying home for the day, even many years and many miles away.

He hand stopped aching, and she took it out again, running through the last of the passwords on Carter’s list. He only given an 85% guarantee, so the trip and the suffering might not have been worth it. Right before she entered the last code, a small flake landed on the edge of the board, and then another.

She looked up, and found them struggling to fall to the ground, joining the frost in the grass. Cara laughed, tilting her head up, and feeling the pin pricks as they touched her face. Old instinct made her want to try and catch them on her tongue, but new kept her from doing so. As it was, she’d have to wash her exposed skin when she got back to her camp.

Still, it was worth it to have seen them, even if the last password didn’t work.



by | May 13, 2011