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Whiteout

Red White Snowglobe

Red White Snowglobe

Mar 15, 2022

Oh, little little red ladybug,

How did her fare go with her jug?


"I got nothing" the girl answers, rudely looking back up to her elder sister, "they say that flowers turn white then freezes during the whiteout."


The elder rubs her shoulders and softly replies "But these flowers are so pretty" 


"Of course they are, I picked them myself. But all they say is that my flowers will just go to white during the whiteout. They say the colors will all just be white and by the end of the season, they will all wilt."


What a, what a dilemma

It is for the elder sister's karma

Trying to comfort her little sister

Even though the world is becoming bitter.


Why do they even still live in a shack?

In winter whiteout, this house will get sacked


The elder sister lights up the candles

The little sister takes Mr. Teapot's handle

Off she pours hot water in their mug

Before cleaning their table with an old rug


"Will we even survive this whiteout? The adults say that many will die. The whiteout will show no mercy."


My, oh my


"That's not true, " the elder retorts as she takes her mug of hot water. "We are strong and we can get through the season together."


"Say that to this old house. They say that we'd be buried in snow."


"Where have you even learned that Iscilli? That's absolutely not true. Your elder sister will make sure of it. Now, go on and head to bed."


"I don't want to!"


The ladybug grabs a hold of her mug

Whilst leaning on the elder for a hug.


"The whiteout will happen tomorrow. We'd never get to see the sun ever again."


"No Iscilli, the whiteout will only blind the sun white. Ten months later, it will return to normal."


"And one of us will go missing."


…


Speechless, the elder is

Truth hurts when the truth strikes home

One by one, starting with the father of nine

The family declines.


One by one in each winter whiteout

Their hopes of survival, they doubt


"Could be me" the ladybug answers the silence


"No Iscilli."


"Then you?"


The elder bites her tongue, pinching her palm behind her back. Cold winds settle by her nape. A chilling frost blowing out the candles. She takes this moment of lighting them back one to ponder.


"So who?"


"I-" . . . She stares at the weak candle flick. "I don't know."


"I see. Then I'll head out for a while"


"In this hour? No, Iscilli"


"Maybe what they say of our house being cursed is true! Maybe if I go to my friend's house it will be okay. They have more money than us, more piles of bread to last more than four whiteouts…I will go"


"Iscilli…"


Oh non non non non

The little ladybug won

Big elder sister is done

Now off she has gone to see John



“Iscilli? Why are you here?” John answers after opening the door for the little girl in a mudded cloak. 


“Let me in John”


“What about your sister? She’s gonna worry.”


“She won’t be after midnight.”


“What do you mean?”


What does she mean?

Oh, the boy must be so clean

For him to not know

Death in snow


“Just let me in please?”


How his heart flutter 

Amidst his head is a clutter

How his heart takes her in

His life, now a sin!


As night falls 

Sinners must pay their toll

Candle wicks warm the stable

Parents finding John, they are disabled


“I need to go back. They are looking for me.”


The little girl sits silent

A face of malevolence

She looks up at us in the sky

Oh ho ho ho, I guess you won’t cry


“Take this” She gives John a round glass filled with snow. 


“A snow crystal ball?”


Chuckling, the girl responds, “no, that’s just an ordinary snowglobe. But it needs a stand, can you make one for me?”


Delighted, the boy’s face against the candlelight

He runs and fro on snow without a care in sight

Calling his parents for his wedge and nails

Today after midnight, he or the elder sister will sail


4 hours later and a bellow can be heard

From the alpine alps and the coming horizon clouds

The ear-shattering sound is not from a bird

The stormy clouds erupt apart and a giant whale emerge


The little girl finds a trail of blood on the snow

She follows it to John’s house now cold winds blow

Candles wick are cold to touch

So as Aunt and Uncle’s skin much


Oh, Johnny Johnny boy, where is he?

The basement maybe?

Oooo, what a surprise

Who knew you can use a bloody hand as a stand.


“Thanks, John” The little girl takes her snowglobe along with the boy’s decapitated hand. “If I hadn’t known of this snowglobe, my sister could have already made me a sacrifice.” The little girl’s figure melts as she…he grows taller, older, with a menacing cloak made out of whale barnacles skin. The snow globe shifted thin into a black stick. His bald elongated head now scraping against the ceiling. He walks out of the house, opens his hands, and calls forth the storm–the whale–the whiteout.

dranelpenumbra
DranelPenumbra

Creator

#poetry #shortstory #magical #Fantasy #fiction

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Whiteout
Whiteout

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"Only in Everwinter when the day of the sinner's soil will be cleansed and planted with fresh fertile loams of Harvest. " This short story collection entitled Whiteout is a bundle of original short stories with the theme of Winter. Some stories are written in poems, and some are freely written. But what's special is its feel for fantasy and fiction with an added cold spice of delight and bewilderment.
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8 episodes

Ep. 8 Red White Snowglobe

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Red White Snowglobe

Red White Snowglobe

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