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priscaTitle: Early Onset of Winter
Character: Mr. Smith, Sister Hannah
Word Count: 300
Prompt: early winter/warmth
Rating: PG13
:::
Smith pulled the old coat closer around his shoulders. Winter was early this year, bringing snow and frosty nights. He usually didn't mind being on the roads; he wasn't looking for company. The voice in his head was hard enough to endure.
But right now, he would have given a lot for a shelter, a fireplace, and a meal to warm him up. Wishful thinking; the urban hinterland he had been walking across for two days already was desolate and deserted. Even God kept quiet. Maybe he had finally realized that it had been a ridiculous idea to make him, Smith, his messenger. And he had decided, to leave him alone, here, in the middle of the nowhere.
Breathing hard, Smith stopped. Dropped the heavy backpack into the snow. Squeezed his eyes shut. Too tired to move on. If this was the end, he felt ready for it.
:::
First, he felt the comfortable warmth of a thick blanket around his body. Then, the hearty odore of a delicious stew reached his mind. He was dreaming! Or dead?! Was heaven like that? A place where all his wishes came true.
„Welcome back,“ a voice reached his ear. A foreign voice, not his.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, almost afraid to wake up. And there she was. Her dress taddered; a woolen scarf covering her hair. Friendly brown eyes, lots of wrinkles on her face. Too old to be still alive.
„What...“ he started in a croaking voice. Much too old! „What...“
„Everything is fine.“ The woman stepped closer, put a hand on his arm. So gentle, so warm, so comforting. Like the hand of a mother, he couldn't remember. Smiling, he closed his eyes again. Yes, now everything was okay. He had finally found a safe haven.
Character: Mr. Smith, Sister Hannah
Word Count: 300
Prompt: early winter/warmth
Rating: PG13
:::
Smith pulled the old coat closer around his shoulders. Winter was early this year, bringing snow and frosty nights. He usually didn't mind being on the roads; he wasn't looking for company. The voice in his head was hard enough to endure.
But right now, he would have given a lot for a shelter, a fireplace, and a meal to warm him up. Wishful thinking; the urban hinterland he had been walking across for two days already was desolate and deserted. Even God kept quiet. Maybe he had finally realized that it had been a ridiculous idea to make him, Smith, his messenger. And he had decided, to leave him alone, here, in the middle of the nowhere.
Breathing hard, Smith stopped. Dropped the heavy backpack into the snow. Squeezed his eyes shut. Too tired to move on. If this was the end, he felt ready for it.
:::
First, he felt the comfortable warmth of a thick blanket around his body. Then, the hearty odore of a delicious stew reached his mind. He was dreaming! Or dead?! Was heaven like that? A place where all his wishes came true.
„Welcome back,“ a voice reached his ear. A foreign voice, not his.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, almost afraid to wake up. And there she was. Her dress taddered; a woolen scarf covering her hair. Friendly brown eyes, lots of wrinkles on her face. Too old to be still alive.
„What...“ he started in a croaking voice. Much too old! „What...“
„Everything is fine.“ The woman stepped closer, put a hand on his arm. So gentle, so warm, so comforting. Like the hand of a mother, he couldn't remember. Smiling, he closed his eyes again. Yes, now everything was okay. He had finally found a safe haven.