#Flashfiction – Ice

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Charli Mills’ prompt for the week is as follows: May 23, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story without ice. It can be a world without ice or a summer camp that runs out of cubes for lemonade. What does the lack mean to the story? Go where the prompt leads!

Here is the 99-word version of my story:

As we stepped outside, a chilly wind embraced us, making my eyes sting and water. The cold of the air felt more intense than when we had arrived a few hours ago and more white flakes flew from the dark sky. Our feet crunched on ice encrusted grass as we trudged across a wide expanse of lawn towards the first outhouse. Dizziness and confusion gripped me and thought I might collapse, but, drawing a few reviving and slow breaths, I managed to reach the small building and open the door. I stepped into its shelter, dragging Thomas after me.

If you would like to read the longer version with more context, here that is too:

From the diary of Jennifer Saunders

The farm was everything we had hoped for and more. It was remote and Glen proved to have been a survivalist who obviously foresaw a time when the modern world shuddered to a halt for some or other reason. World Government electrical networks did not reach this isolated location and so a number of gas lights were placed at convenient intervals around each room. I was hugely grateful when I flicked the switches and they sprang to life. Tom and I were already weary of the perpetual dark of the Nuclear Winter that had settled upon the land.

In the pantry we found rows and rows of canned goods including milk and various high protein legume based foodstuffs. Vacuumed packed packages of soya products, dried milk, soups and other instant meals were stacked on the wooden shelves. There were no meat-based products but I wouldn’t have known what to do with any had we found them. It had been over twenty years since consumption of meat by humans had been banned. There was also a good supply of water. He must have used his military connections to obtain this sort of stockpile which was far in excess of the individual food and drink allocations allowed in terms of the World Government policies.

In the cupboard in the main bedroom I found a selection of thermal lined fleece jackets, gloves and hoods, with a flap that came down over your ears and another that covered your mouth, leaving only your eyes exposed. The clothing was much too big for Thomas and me, but we put them on over our own clothes anyway, before venturing outside in the subfreezing temperatures to inspect the outhouses. Fortunately, I had packed our boots into our luggage before we fled Birmingham.

As we stepped outside, a chilly wind embraced us, making my eyes sting and water. The cold of the air felt more intense than when we had arrived a few hours ago and more white flakes flew from the dark sky. Our feet crunched on ice encrusted grass as we trudged across a wide expanse of lawn towards the first outhouse. Dizziness and confusion gripped me and thought I might collapse, but, drawing a few reviving and slow breaths, I managed to reach the small building and open the door. I stepped into its shelter, dragging Thomas after me.

You can join in the challenge here: https://carrotranch.com/2019/05/23/may-23-flash-fiction-challenge/

Published by robertawrites235681907

I am a writer of young adult fiction and poetry

Published

36 thoughts on “#Flashfiction – Ice”

  11. I actually remember summers in the country and having to use an out house… I read somewhere that some outhouses with half moons (or crescents) in the door meant that the outhouse was half way from the house and the barn.

    Weather extremes are not my favorites. But one adjusts. I read somewhere else that it takes about 6 months to call a new spot home.

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  12. 99 words – part of a longer story – which seems to be part of a longer story too. A Nuclear Winter doesn’t sound pleasant. I wonder will it come to a banning of meat. Vegans have been actively protesting over here recently. The meat industry and consumers do a lot of damage to the environment.

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  15. Pingback: Without Ice « Carrot Ranch Literary Community

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