The chill that ran down my spine was electric, almost thrilling.The world was bound to change, and here it is, about to be so different from every other day on this planet. This was a big moment. I bent down and got my gray blanket, adorned with crystal-looking things and some other small animal I couldn’t recognize, and drew it around my arms. This was it. I sipped my drink, and watched as the first few crystallized droplets daintily fell from the sky. Snow. I pushed my hair back, for the billionth time, and sat down. The people on this planet called this season Winter. It was a fascinating subject to me- seasons. Spring was the season where everything came back to life, Summer was the peak, the highest point in life for all living things, Autumn was where everything receded back into the Earth, and Winter was when all life was nearly gone. Except for the humans. They enjoyed Winter.
The snow? Yes, that’s what they’d called it. The snow was getting deeper and deeper every second of every minute of every hour. They’d showed me that life here wasn’t so bad- at least when you’re alone. I’d been instructed to stay inside, so I did. I’m here, watching the snow drift ever downwards, pondering about this planet and its inhabitants.
Music was the second most fascinating thing that the humans had conjured up. I wondered if there was a way to make music not with sounds, but with visuals. Images. Things, not soundwaves.
The snow kept falling.
Was there a way to do this? Was there a way to make this happen? My mind began to race, exploring concepts they told me to stay away from a long time ago. I began to wonder, just what is visual music?
The snow blew down harder.
My head, overloaded with thousands of tiny little sparks, no, embers, flowing freely where they wanted, leading me to new ideas and new concepts I’d never dared go near. Each song had a color, every color contributed to a picture, a puzzle piece in the world that is this planet. Earth. Earth. They weren’t monitoring my thoughts, so I continued to make music different, in my head. It’s a wonderful thing, having an imagination and thoughts and being able to breathe, dream, be as human as I can possibly get. I knew I was getting somewhere now.
The snowfall turned into a blizzard.
Music, just a combination of sounds and words and magic and what do we get out of it? Something beautiful, something mystical, something new. Every time. So what if we take those patterns and assign them a color and put it on paper? Canvas? What do we get? Something that beats the system. Something interesting, something perfect, filled with life, just like the rest of this planet. Movements, emotions, passion, colors, happiness, everything that I’d never experienced before coming to this planet.
I realized that I’d never hear from them again, those people. They drove me here, to this world, and good riddance. I was sick of them. My drink tasted bland as I thought about them. Maybe they still had some control over me, but I was a million, billion lightyears away from home. My planet. I’m glad I ended up here or I don’t know what I would’ve done. I ran, rebelled, did whatever I could.
Or… did I?
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140,904 Literary Works • 673,714 Reviews
Hiya! Sally here reviewing!
I really like this story. The description and the images that the narrator sees is simply breathtaking. We can focus more on the mental state of the narrator and that is what is the main thing in the story. I love the phenomenon of the snowfall; it spurs into the narrator's mind and how it made connections to his/her home planet. Especially the music.
The music, I feel, is the most important piece because of the connection to the narrator. It is interesting to think how music can be interchanged to visual, something we can see, rather than hear. It is amazing because music intertwines with culture, for decades and centuries, that it changes and adapts to fit every person's personality or their budget, not financial-wse, but you know what I mean.
The snow is important too. My interpretation of snow is beautiful, light fluffy snowflakes covering the ground, and then as more negative things approach, the snow falls harder and harder until it turns into a blizzard.
Whatever happened with the narrator's past is behind now, and we know he/she is happy with Earth.
Well done, you are a terrific writer and poet, I and i know countless others would love to see more.
I really liked it.
I like how you described snow as it is to the narrator. The narrator's first experience of what a visual treat is. I like the boundless imagination that the phenomenon of snowfall and music spurred in the narrator's mind and the connection that it made to his/her life on his/her home planet.
I felt that the ending was slightly rushed or a little incomplete. There were lot many questions unanswered and a lot many things unclear. Was the narrator from a planet where there were humans? Is the narrator a human? What does the narrator mean by rebelling against those on his planet? And why have people on Earth forbidden the narrator from thinking? Why would they keep the narrator captive? It makes me feel slightly dissatisfied to not have answers to these questions.
Otherwise, great job. Keep writing.
Cheers!
Im reading this in the middle of a snowstorm! Man, what fascinating short. I especially like the way the manipulation of tension through the use of the comments on the snow. You slowly directing the readers attention to the importance of the experience and the characters dystopian past.
You use imagery in a unique sense. You focus more on the effects of the surrounding on the character which focus us on the phycology and mental state of the character. vary well done
@KatjaDawn @Mmellowme @AnneTaylor @imaginer2018 @TheBlueCat @woahhitherepal @Saruka @nightmarenoodles @LJF @SpaceSnickerdoodle @neptune @saentiel @emolemon
Take a look at this please <3
WHOA THIS IS AWESOME PLEASE TELL ME THERE'S GONNA BE MORE
Ah! I love it so much! Please, please, please, please (x1000) keep writing this! ^w^