Snowfall continued...

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece entitled Snowfall for Prose for Thought. I'd been having trouble with the poem writing and decided just a very short piece of creative writing might get the juices flowing again. Well it worked and since 24th April I've been writing almost daily. Not on the blog I admit but the book is getting edits and other ideas have been spilling onto the page too. It feels so good to be creative again. I try to force myself to write whenever it's time for #Prose4T, sometimes it doesn't work and no matter what I do I can't think. Other times just making myself sit and write sparks so many ideas that I can't keep up, my inner writer is on fire and all I want to do is type. That's how it's been this last couple of weeks. So here's this week's entry for #Prose4T, enjoy.

The first snowfall of the year and he’d sullied it. Scarlet drops continued to fall from the knife in his hand and land on the white blanket. The crunch beneath his feet as he trudged across the yard distracted him from the ringing in his ears. His heart thumped and a white cloud exuded from his nose as he exhaled. He hurried towards the shed, leaving a trail of tainted snow behind him.

As he opened the shed door he glanced at the distant hills, the sun peeked over the horizon radiating an orange glow across the sky. He stepped inside the shed, his boots thudding on the oak floor, and closed the door behind him. A beam of light burst in through a hole in the wall and bounced off the top of his metal-framed chair. He sat on the chair, the knife still in his clenched hand, and stared at the closed door. 

The distant whine of sirens didn’t register. Images burned into his memory flashed in front of him. He turned the knife in his hand but it slipped landing on the floor with a clunk. In the darkness he focused on it, the liquid hidden by the shadows but he knew what it was. He knew who’s it was. 

His heart hammered the inside of his chest and every beat reverberated through his body. Blurred vision and a tight chest restricted his thinking. A tear trickled over his cheek and he lifted a hand to wipe it away. A sob escaped his lips. Pressing both hands to his face he screamed into them and began rocking back and forth. Tears flowed, ceaseless. Another flash of the boy and he threw his head back and wailed. 

The shed door opened and morning light flooded in, a silhouette stood in the doorway. 

“Sir?” A soft-spoken but toneless voice said, “sir, could you come with me?” 

He peered at the silhouette and sunlight glinted off silvery buttons on a dark jacket. A hat atop the head had a silver emblem in the centre. 

“Sir, this way please.” The police-woman said. 

He rose and stepped out of the shed. The blanketed yard reflected the morning light and he squinted. His eyes fell on the scarlet trail leading from the house to the shed and he dropped to his knees, sobbing. 

“Sir, I need you to come with me.” 

With bleary eyes he looked up and she waved at someone. A blanket landed on his shoulders a moment later and paramedics led him across the garden, through the gate and alongside his home. 

An ambulance stood, back doors open, in front of his house. They walked him up the steps and opened the gate. Three police cars stood next to the kerb along the street, lights flashing. Neighbours lingered at their gates, watching with intrigue. He felt their eyes on him as he sat in the back of the ambulance. He glanced across the street at his best friend’s wife, their eyes locked for a moment and she raised her hand to her mouth. She glanced at his house and then back at him. Her hair flicked up as she spun and ran back into her home. Was she going to call Trevor? 

“Mr Richardson?” 

He turned his head, a tall woman stood to his right. Her voice was soft and husky, jet-black bobbed hair framed her face and striking blue eyes studied him. He nodded once. 

“Mr Richardson, is this your home?” She asked. 

He nodded again. 

“Detective Inspector Baines.” A disembodied voice called. 

The woman walked away, disappearing around the side of the ambulance but he could hear the conversation. 

“Detective, I don’t think you’ll be able to question Mr Richardson right now.”
“And why is that?”
“He’s in shock.”

Detective Baines came back and stood in front of him. 

“Mr Richardson, we'll talk later.” she said. 

He nodded. 

Detective Baines hurried away, stomped towards the house and glanced back as she entered. His stomach flipped and he closed his eyes when she disappeared into the lounge.

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Prose for Thought


  1. The suspense is tantalising! Is this part of the book? #prose4T

    1. Thanks. Originally this was just two paragraphs I wrote for #Prose4T but now I'm going to see how far I can take it. This one has stuck with me, which is great. Thanks for stopping by and commenting. xx

  2. Wow. I want to know more!

    Very captivating writing. X

    1. Thank you Chrissie, that's just what I was hoping for. xx

  3. Absolutely captivating Morgan. I love it - and I am so pleased you elaborated on what you had already written. I feel exactly the same as you about Prose for Thought every week - but somehow I always seem to come up with something! Thank you so much for linking :) This is the second piece of brilliant fiction I have read this week xx

    1. Thank you Victoria. I loved writing the first two paragraphs and wondered where the story would go from there. Instead of turning my character into some evil being I thought having him as part of a wider story would be more interesting. I have been spending a lot more time with the book these days and I love it. I don't know why I stop, most of the time I think it's because other things steal my time away! Anyway, off I go to spend more time with my beloved WIP. Thanks again. xxx