I lost it. I don’t know where exactly where the pink flip phone landed in the falling snow. There were inches or feet of cold, icy fluff already covering the field where I walked with my dog. Pearl bounded and pounced after snowballs and I laughed at her white goatee – a mix of saliva and frozen snow after pushing her dark muzzle into the snow. My eyelashes felt bedazzled from crystallized tears.
My two little boys brought me to the mountain so they could tumble down one side of it into the crevasse and then climb up again. The sky was gray – a pillow of cloud. Not many clouds, but a single cloud of gray looming over the woods, obliterating the sky. And the snow fell upon relentless in its mission to cover the world, choking from it all air and light. But the pending storm could not prevent the giggles from the two bear cubs I watched over.
The last phone call I made to him was erased like the snow that pressed upon me. The last call for forgiveness. The last call for sympathy. The last call of pain – no more. I slipped the phone into my pocket and turned my attention to the toothless boys and digging dog.
This time, this place is what matters now. Nothing can take this moment away. I am not afraid and will not be afraid ever again. I called out to the boys. I can only make out the faintest shadows through twilight’s curtain. The dog came to my side, cold, wet, and shaking. The boys linger. I call out more loudly again and shuffle from side to side.
The phone may have been lost. But I am not.
This is a short work of experimental fiction. Thanks for reading. If you like this post, please feel free to share it with your friends or send me a comment. You can also post a comment on my blog or Facebook, or tweet me @kristinebruneau.
This is part of #yourturnchallenge #day7 – and it’s my best work today.