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It’s tourist time in my country. Every tourist I see is laughing and smiling regardless of where they are or the time of day. Inspired by that observation, write a story involving the emotion of happiness.
It doesn’t have to be the primary emotion; it might make a fleeting appearance as long as it appears at some point.
No more than 500 words by end of month.
Ahhh! Hangs head in shame. I don’t know where November went either. Made a start but never finished. I vote that Alex keeps the competition and we all have another try for December.
A Winter Dragon
Snow in the north, south, east, and west, but none here. Fran had been promised snow by the television and the app on her phone, but here she sat, four days from Christmas, freezing cold, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun shining. She wiggled the feet of her onesie into Mum’s fleece boots and, as quietly as possible, slipped out through the patio doors.
‘Don’t leave that door open!’ Mum shouted from upstairs. Something at the edge of Fran’s vision made her jump.
The grass crunched and crackled with each step, and even though the garden wasn’t the snow-covered playground she longed for, she had to admit it looked pretty special dressed up in its winter frost. Reaching down, she picked up a twig, placed the tip against her lips, and then blew a plume of steamy breath out. Just like Mrs Parker from next door with her cigarettes.
The pond was still and silent. In summer, she liked to sit next to it and watch the teaming life above and below. Once she saw a frog on the edge, as still as the stones apart from the steady pulse beneath its deep green chin. Now the water was a glossy black disk, cold under her fingers and solid as glass. She peered down and could just make out her icy, leafy, frozen-dirt face looking back. A flickering crossed the reflection and she looked round. Nothing.
Shivers ran through her; the cold had penetrated to her toes. Fran wondered whether the fox she spotted last night had found a warm spot to curl up. She headed down towards the shed. Maybe it would be somewhere in the jumble of bushes and weeds beyond it that Mum was always going to sort out next week.
There. That was it. The flickering. Not the fox, but a glistening jewel on a branch.
Out of time; it shouldn’t be here. She reached out, but stopped herself. Poor little thing. It shouldn’t be here. A dragonfly as beautiful and fierce as summer, shining in the feeble sun of a bitter winter. A sun that must have glowed brightly enough to trick this wonderful creature out of its larval stage, into a world without warmth, or food, or friendship.
She heard the creak of the doors. ‘Breakfast, Fran. Come on in, Love. You’ll catch your death.’
‘Oh, Mum. Look.’
Her mother padded towards her in slippers.
‘Look, Mum. A dragonfly. It’s so sad. What can we do?’
‘Nothing, love. And it’s not so sad. Just think; that dragonfly gets to dance and fly around now, in the world all decorated with frost. It sees what no other dragonfly will. It has a chance that no other one does. This is its time. It’s probably as happy as—’
‘—as happy as a dragonfly can be,’ Fran finished for her.
Her mother slipped an arm round her shoulders.
‘Breakfast?’
‘Breakfast!’
491 with title
@athelstone One entry but a great story. I really enjoyed it. Loved the twist at the end and the setting description is amazing. I look forward to your prompt for this month.
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