The sun is reflecting off the snowflakes as they descend from the arctic blue vaults of heaven. The hushed crunch of the glistening powder beneath one’s feet provides a rhythmic sound on this crisp morning. Strange, I am not dressed for this frigid temperature, yet I do not feel cold. I shrug it off, deciding that my recent workout at the gym still has my body amped up.
As I make my way through the snow laden streets, I see familiar faces. I cannot put names to these faces, but they are the same locals from the neighborhood that I pass daily. I nod my head, and even raise a waving hand to the variety of countenances I have grown accustomed to. Odd, it is as if folks are looking past me, through me – but certainly not at me. My routine greetings are going unacknowledged. What could I have done to go unnoticed?
As I plunge my hands deep into the pockets of my parka, I notice that my pockets are not where they should be. I peer down and observe that I am not wearing my winter parka. Instead, I am in a cropped hoodie and jean shorts – what? On my feet, a pair of white Converse. I am not leaving any tracks in the snow, but floating, just above the surface. Oh shit! I forgot, I’m dead! Barely six months ago, struck down by lightning. I promised myself I would come back for one last snowfall.
About the Creator
Sara Jones
I have been writing for a few years but have not had the courage to publish. I do plan on publishing this year, a compilation of flash fiction, Elements.
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