He was the first snowman I had ever built.
Coal for eyes and jacket buttons, a fresh carrot for a nose, and pebbles for a mouth.
Yorkshire Copywriter, Proofreader & Author
He was the first snowman I had ever built.
Coal for eyes and jacket buttons, a fresh carrot for a nose, and pebbles for a mouth.
He walked in like a cloud.
People stopped talking to stare at him. They shook their heads in disgust.
You’ve got me all wrong.
Yes, I’m in the Love business; I sit here, perched above, watching you all, preparing my arrows, taking aim, firing, but, honestly, it’s not what you think.
We pressed our ears against the wall, looks of concentration on our dirty faces.
We could definitely hear something.
The boy was kneeling in the mud, hands clasped, eyes shut. His lips were murmuring a plea for rain.
His father pulled him up by an ear.
“Mum, do you want to see me turn into a dog?” A short flash-fiction piece.
I shook off the coating of snow from my shoulders, and blew into my hands.