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A young boy takes advantage of his mother's heirloom. |
Snow Days Nicole Verde glared at the television as the announcer statedâŚâAll public schools are closed due to excessive snow.ââŚfor the tenth day in a row. Scowling, she looked out the window at the steady fall of snowflakes. This was ridiculous. It had been snowing for the last two weeks. The roads were deathtraps. Today was the last of her vacation, if she didnât go back to work on Monday, she would risk losing her job. She had to figure out where sheâd placed the snow globe of her Grandmotherâs house. Two inches tall and four inches wide, the snow globe depicted a Victorian set in a field of lavender with a small copse of trees to one side. When wound correctly it would play âGreensleevesâ, when wound incorrectlyâŚwell three turns counter-clockwise and the right words could change the weather to anything you wanted it to be. Sheâd searched everywhere she could think of. All of her cookbooks and knickknacks were off the shelves and in piles on the dining room table. She had looked through all the closets and it would take her hours to put the living room back together. Her bedroom looked like a tornado had blown through it with everything tossed between her bed and the floor. She had looked everywhere she could think of. âMommy,â said her son, Timothy, as he tugged on the sleeve of her sweater. âThereâs no more cereal.â He held a box of Frosted Flakes upside down and a small pile of crumbs dusted out as he shook it. âTimothy, stop it,â Nicole said taking away the box. âIâll make some breakfast in a bit. Mommy is looking for something. Why donât you go get dressed honey?â âDo I gotta? Thereâs no school.â âI know that!â The look on her face told her she had spoken more harshly than she meant to. âIâm sorry I yelled sweetheart, but you still have to get dressed.â âBut why,â he asked over a trembling lip. Large chocolate-colored eyes threatened to spill tears on his round rosy cheeks. âTimothy, please hon, no drama, just go get dressed. I have to find Grandmaâs house.â âOh,â said her son, who spun on his stocking feet and ran off to his room without another word. Narrowing her eyes, she watched her six year old son go to his room. Suddenly she knew why she couldnât find the snow globe. Sighing, she went into the kitchen to make some breakfast, this conversation was going to require food. By the time Timothy came out of his room, she had made pancakes, her sonâs favorite, and cleaned off the table. As she set the syrup down, he gave her a tight hug. Hugging him back, she placed a kiss on top of his head. Climbing onto his seat, she sat across from him. Watching her son as he ate his first pancake, she tried to figure out the best method of attack. âYou must be missing your school friends,â she started as she buttered her pancake and poured syrup over it. Timothy shrugged as he frowned at her. âI really wish we were able to go to the store, I donât know how we are going to get by if we canât buy more groceries. Weâre almost out of everything.â Timothy looked up at her his brown eyes large and round. âWhy canât we go to the store?â âI donât feel comfortable driving in the snow. Lots of accidents happen when itâs snowing and I canât risk something happening to the car.â She took a big bite of her pancake to keep from smiling. Timothy chewed on his bottom lip while watching her. She finished her pancake. âAlso Iâm out of vacation, if it doesnât stop soon, I might lose my job. But since I canât find the snow globe of Grandmaâs house, I guess Iâm just going to have toâŚâ Timothy jumped out of his seat and ran off to his room. Nicole smiled as she watched her son. He came back with his fist tight around the small glass globe. He set it on the table by her and then climbed back up onto his chair. Picking it up she turned it upside down, twisted the small key three times clockwise and whispered the words that would cause the snow to melt slowly over the weekend. Looking up, she saw her son watching her. Smiling, she asked, âDid I ever tell you about the time I caused a blizzard in May?â Word Count: 750 Written for "The Writer's Cramp" ![]() Prompt: Write a STORY or POEM about someone (a human being, not a god) who can control the weather - do they use it for good, or for evil? Does anyone know about their superpower? |