The International Writers Magazine: Moments of Chaos Theory
Death of a Snowflake
“What a fitting life it is.” Those words were produced from an individual admiring the freshly fallen snow upon the unemployed tree branches.
There were no other plant life willing to provide them with shelter from the cold so the tress decided it would be best to be as lethargic as possible for the winter. The roots were not going to find a way to unthaw the frozen ground and feed the leaves, they would simply let them die. “What a beautiful sight,” there was a pause because the speaker had to admire and force out some sort of vocalization that showed he felt this way . “Just the..” but it couldn’t be garbage it had be honest, straight from the heart. “The dark dead branches spinning everywhere in chaotic patterns emphasising their structure through a white outlining of snow.” The speaker smiled, he believed that he had given the beauty the proper description it deserved.
Words like this usually aren’t crafted in the mind and spoken out loud unless there is an audience. Luckily there was an audience. It was only one but he was more then open ears, he was also a participant. “Yes John it’s real nice but it’s also very cold outside.” Beauty had long ago left this man’s mind. It hadn’t left suddenly, but slowly, over time. As monotonous routines bared down upon its creativity and observation, these feeling would often go on extended vacations until they decided they had enough and would only visit on rare special occasions. When this occurs feelings and discussions say goodbye, taking with them boxes full of adjectives and verbs. This discussion seemed to be no celebration and so basic survival instincts were the only thing intact. “I can’t wait to get warm.”
John was not one to allow stagnation to settle into his brain, “You can find something wonderful to look at everywhere you go Henry.” He looked over at the man walking beside him and saw only pain. He knew what pain did, it clouded the mind. He didn’t hold resentment against his friend for feeling this way, he understood how he felt because he had been there many of times. John was a good soul and would never want to wish that dread upon on anyone, so he tried his best to push this feeling out of Henry, “Yah man don’t worry we are almost at my place, when we get there we will have pizza.”
“Food, I suppose I should eat, its been a couple of days.”
The reply sounded as sullen as the rest of his talk. “We can also watch some episode of Patrick’s travel, that show kills me. I’m glad you got me into it.”
Henry’s mind interrupted these words as a sad character description of a lonely no friend T.V. watching loser. Enjoyment was not coming back for this. It knew this road too well a 22 minute show full of laughter and when it’s over maybe a couple of chuckles as it thinks about the jokes. Then back to reality, the realization that he is a bore and the rest of the world must entertain him. Happiness dealt with this enough in the past and it turned out so painful that any emotion bordering on pleasure was told not to bother with the struggle.
John saw that the dreadful expression on his friend’s face was not changing. This same friend who had been his white knight once before, rescuing his soul from the darkest of places, who wanted this saviour lifted from his struggle, fought and pushed any way he could. John at that moment killed every negative thought in his mind, focused only on the positive, letting it grow to astronomical proportions. He then spoke the most uplifting speech to Henry that had ever been spoken in the history of mankind.
This speech did not destroy that cloud of pain that was cursing Henry, it simply slid off and landed on a snowflake. Due to the magnitude of these wonderful words, the snowflake was very receptive to what was said. For the first time in history a snowflake understood the words of man. Such beautiful words they were that the snowflake grew the capacity for fully conscious thought. Beauty had given it life and the snowflake admired it so much that it longed for more beauty.
It looked intently at the powdery snow that surrounded it, it began to look deeper at every other individual snowflake. Seeing that no two of his companions looked the same, the snowflake became so overwhelmed with pleasure that it decided to spread this feeling to all other snowflakes. A trickling down effect began to happen and all the snowflakes in the world realized who they were and what they were doing. They admired for months the fine work that went into every woven pattern. Then they saw beyond the individual snowflake, seeing how well they harmonized when they spread across the tree branches and rooftops. Painting the city in a nice lush white.
The snowflakes then become their own worst critics. They began to argue about their placement, they didn’t want to land on dirty roads and get tangled up with dirt and stay stuck to some semi’s mud flaps or sit on a roof until they landed on a man’s shoulder and were violently tossed aside. Others grew jealous, some insecure to the point that they refused to fall from the sky. The snowflakes who had made that leap from the cloud began to think about the futility of their actions, they no longer wanted to carouse the earth like vain runway models. A few snowflakes chose death and began to melt away, others followed until there was nothing but a snow free city.
“Shut this garbage off.” Henry jumped up from his chair walked over to the T.V. and pulled out the DVD from the machine and snapped it in two. “It’s a beautiful day out, its full of beautiful people and most importantly beautiful women.” John smiled very brightly at this. The two get up from their chairs, made some phone calls and begin cooking in the kitchen.
A picnic in the park and a lovely spring day with good friends was born. Sarah bit into her sandwich, chewed, swallowed and said the first thing that came to her mind, “Henry this is the best sandwich I have ever had.”
At that moment a taste bud reached self-actualization.
© mike wysminity December 16 2009
poopforpoop at msn.com
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