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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
Submitted to Contest #77
When my mother told me stories of snow -- the flakes that would float lazily toward the ground, coating it in hills and valleys of white powder -- she always described it as earth’s herpes: it never leaves. With snow always came slush, the grey, infective sludge that made the once-pure landscape sick with rotting foliage and the remains of dead livestock. Even so, every night, I asked her to tell me the stories of the dancing flakes that clothed the trees and bushes in white sweaters. Even if every story was infused with virulence and bitte...
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