Louie Gonzales
Stories (1/0)
Happy young man
Snow, quietly slowly down, such as goose feather, like catkins, the first snow of this winter, so came. At first, there was a faint "da da" sound, I looked out of the window: "under the ice!" "What ice? It's snow!" My mother laughed. "Ice, indeed! Then I walked around the yard and brought back some ice residue. My mother believed me: "This is snow." More or less my mother agreed with her own point of view. I insist on their own point of view, in order to research, I went to the yard grabbed a handful of "ice slag ", into the mouth of the mineral water bottle, mother convinced. It was strange that a handful of "ice residue" had not melted after a long time. The temperature in the room was high enough. After a while, suddenly "ice slag" disappeared, replaced by snow. The snowflakes say big, say small, say thick, say thin, as if who is in control, it seems that each snowflake is printed in a mold, with the slight wind fluttering Sassa, like an actor in a slow ballet. A few minutes later, the courtyard has been a piece of white: the wall wearing a white felt hat, the tree covered with silver armor, vegetables put on a fine white padded clothes, the earth covered with a white quilt...... Everywhere is covered in white, slowly become a white world. Snow is big and small, say big, say small. Big snowflakes fly all over the sky, small white pieces sleep alone. However, big or small, still always slowly, lingering underground. Snow more big, white is slowly cover the earth, cover a light poetry, cover a long painting, cover a white beauty. The snow got tighter and tighter, and the gaps between the flakes got smaller and smaller, but it still came slowly and silently... ...
By Louie Gonzales11 months ago in Fiction