Members Creative Writing

The morning has broken. I look outside the windows and see a majestic white cover on the lawn, the trees. Snowflakes drop gently like crystals. The silence is almost deafening. The tall trees stand like pillars of majesty, strong years of beauty striking out from their branches, and heaps of snow that look like cotton wool. I’m desperate to go outside and play. On going outside I see the memory of big people’s footprints in the snow. I run impatiently I can see the white sandstone walls of the buildings, the white window frames. The sun is out I see shadows, clouds of candyfloss in the sky. It’s so quiet. Running towards the big trees I see more and more snow on them. I can see my breath. The chill of stillness. I look around; I see a wonder of snow reflection, the sunbeams reflecting from the snow crystals, jewels of infinite beauty, colours I cannot describe. I kneel down to gather snow, it’s cold, my hands are cold, I can hear the snow coming together in my hands. I’ve made my first snowball today. As I throw it towards a tree, “piff”, the ball shatters to dust. I hear the sound of a robin, I can’t see it, there it is. I want it to come near me, please. It darts off onto another branch. I can see the faint imprints of birds’ feet in the snow. I see a black bird, an orchestra bellowing from its yellow beak. I go to a big tree and look up; I’m dwarfed by its majesty, its bark, like a hard sponge, a red sponge. As I look through the trees, way in the distance I can see a village. In front of me I can see a white quilt, I kneel down, lie on my back and roll over, the snow is comfortable, I can hear the sound of the snow as I move. Where I’m standing I can see the sandstone wall, and I can see tubular bells of icicles, different sizes, there big. I want one. There so high up the wall as they hang from the protruding sandstone. All the area around me is mine to play in, it’s big and I’m small. Suddenly without warning…………, I hear something, the big tree, on a branch high up in the air, snow has fallen, ssshhhuu, a blackbird just misses the cloud falling.

 

 EVENING:

 It’s dark, it’s still, and it’s quiet, so quiet. The sun has gone to sleep; the moon has come out to play. On the ground below the snow is waiting for me for the next day. The snow, the moon hangs like a new pearl, it’s reflection on the snow, and somebody has thrown a cluster of diamonds on the ground and trees. As I move my head left and right, these priceless diamonds wink at me with all their beauty. I look up at the sky, gentle clouds drift slowly, and through a tree, I see bare branches in front of the moon. Time has stood still. Suddenly, I see bats I can hear them, if I were a mouse I would say to a member of staff (who is also a bat), “Look, angels are flying by.” And then I hear an owl it’s, so quiet, the owl sounds again, it’s far away, it’s close to me. I want to play with the darkness, I’m sad; I have to go inside now. Through the windows I see colours that only the night can give me. In another place somewhere else, the snow, it’s daytime, I’m cold. I feel the arm of a young woman around my right shoulder. I’m warm.