I promised Bekah Shambrook I would enter her contest, so here it is. Telling a story in 50 words is much harder than you’d think – you ought to try it.
He was not coming.
A distant, watery sun traced the sky, beyond the cobweb beaded with tiny crystals.
She sat, breath puffing in the sharp-spun air. The melt down her face was the only trace of tears.
The Ice Queen sat and waited for a spring that would never come.
6 thoughts on “Ice: 50 words”
A sad fairy tale in just 50 words. I thought you’d be writing about that ice glittering on your finger!
It is wonderful, by the way! The story, I mean, though the ring is also very special 🙂
Tragic…in icy beauty!
That is so beautiful, Anna!
I love the line, “breath puffing in the sharp-spun air.”
So sad, yet so very beautiful…