The Snow Spell

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This week, something super cool happened to me: I won a writing contest! On Sunday, S. Alex Martin proposed a flash fiction contest about “unseasonal snow,” because it was still snowing where he lives. I'd never done anything like this before, but I decided to try my hand at the contest and wrote a 500-word story in the form of a letter. I read it over again the next day, edited it to the best of my ability, then sent it off, even though I wasn't sure if it was any good.

But then I got an email Tuesday saying that I’d won! And I did a little scream and cheer right there at my computer. Well technically, it was a whisper-scream since it was like 10:00 at night, and if I’d really screamed, most of my family would’ve been too ticked-off to congratulate me.

But anyway.

I’m uber excited about this, especially since it’s the first time I’ve ever won a contest, and I wanted to share my story with all of you. So without further ado, here it is!

The Snow Spell

So a little bird told me you’re wondering about the funky weather. Well, because I’m bored and it’s against the Wizard Rules, I’ll let you in on the secret – if you’ll keep this a secret.

It all started last fall. I was sprinting across the Sahara, running from an angry desert troll, and praying for a weather midget – any weather midget – to show up sometime soon.

Just like that, Jasmine, the weather midget, appeared before me. Her eyes flickered to the monster several sand dunes behind us. “Troll again?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Cut the sarcasm, Chaton. Otherwise, I won’t help you.”

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the football-sized stitch in my stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes flashed. “‘Ma’am’ me again, and I’ll definitely let him kill you.”

I, for once, shut the heck up.

Jasmine lifted her hands, muttered a chant, and then the snow came, soft white flakes fluttering down from the October sky. I smirked, wondering what the humans thought of it. Did your weathermen freak?

Anyway, I whipped around, watching the desert troll as the snow enveloped him, freezing the cracked, dry skin. He raised his fists, roaring once at the sky, then fell down flat in the snowy sand.

I shook my head, starting for the creature. “How can something so big be defeated by something so small?”

Jasmine shrugged. “They’re born from Sahara sand and live their whole lives in a hundred degree weather. Sudden cold shocks their systems. Is it dead?”

“Knocked out, I think,” I said, when I reached the still giant. “Not dead, but still,” I turned back to her, “I think you can stop the snow.”

No response. “Jasmine?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead she jerked them around, staring at the snow and the sky. “There may be a problem with that.”

I quirked an eyebrow, smirking again. “Problem? No.”

She glowered, eyes turning to inky pits in her anger. “The spell... may have been too powerful.”

Okaaay... “Well, how long’s it gonna snow?”

Still wouldn’t look at me. “Dunno.”

I thought about laughing, but cold as it was getting, the situation wasn’t so funny anymore. With no other options, Jasmine and I trekked across the desert until we found an abandoned hut to hole up in. Jasmine said it’d likely be over in a few minutes, but it kept snowing and snowing...

And, as you humans say, the rest is history.

So now Alex, you know why we’ve got all this stupid, fluffy, white stuff. The storm moved from Africa to America and will continue across the world until it runs out of steam. But count your blessings. At least you’re not stuck with a ticked-off weather midget who suddenly can’t control the weather. Hope you’ve got a warm coat, because this thing’s not stopping anytime soon.

Sincerely, Chaton Swift.

P.S.: This message should self-destruct after ten minutes, but I’m not sure I got the spell right. Let me know, yeah?