Micro Fiction Monday: Seasons

When the year began, the trees looked dead. They weren’t dead, of course, but with their bare branches stretching out against the grey, sunless sky, they sure looked like it. By January, everyone was done with the holiday season, and the noticeable lack of cheery lights and jingly music made everything look dull in comparison. It was like the magic of Christmas had disappeared overnight, forcing us back into our dreary, everyday lives. “You had your fun,” the season mocked. “Now, back to work!”

When the kids shed their winter coats, the sun was warmer. The snow melted away as the rain returned, growing the grass greener and sprouting flowers up between the cracks in the pavement. The trees regained their livelihood, and the seasons bled together as the temperature rose. The sun stayed up longer, and campfires began to dot the town, keeping the same fiery light alive long into the night.

When the school bells rang once more, the seasons were distinct again. The air was brisker, the wind sharper, cutting through sweaters like a paper edge through skin. Footsteps crinkled and cracked as boots shifted through beds of fallen leaves, the wind picking them up and blowing them across the pavement.

And as the year came to a close, it looked about the same as it had at the start, and entirely different. A certain excitement buzzed in the air, held tight with jingle bells and happy tunes. Lights twinkled in the sky, flickering and shimmering like artificial stars. It felt like magic, supercharged by a large bearded man and held strong by the smiles of children on Christmas morning.

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Until later,

- Justyne

Sunrise (Micro Fiction Monday)

The boy was born from the land. His body emerged from the depths of the cold earth, his breath borrowed from the wind, the colour of his eyes as green as the leaves that sprouted up around him. His skin was brown like the bark of the trees that raised him. They spoke to him, and he understood as easily as a son understands his father.

The girl was born from the sky. Her skin was as pale as the moonlight, her hair as black as the darkest night. Her body was formed by the stars—just like the ones who spoke to her, gossiping and giggling over the actions of the humans below.

Humans like the son of the Earth, who often stared up at the stars in awe and amazement, dreaming of a world he would never know. He caught the twinkling eyes of the girl in the sky, and their love came together in an explosion of colours—orange and pink and everything in between. Their love was warm, and it was hopeful. Like the rise of a new day.

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Until later,

- Justyne