Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Snow

Snow doesn't fall from the clouds this year. I open my presents, constatnly reverting my eyes back to the open window in the back of the room. The result is too cheery, as if to mock my failed efforts. Snow would be better than any other gift I could recieve this year. Not because of the oppuritunity of making a snowman. Not to be given the chance to throw snowballs at a distracted father and a hopeful mother. Snow falls, it covers and gives us the chance to start over and renew ourselves. It evens the score, resets the scoreboard, and starts over. It wipes ever slate clean and gives free second chances. And, as I sit and stare out the window, surrounded by wrapping paper and wishing for snow that will never come, I realize that maybe I wasn't wishing for snow after all.

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