Drum roll, please! I proudly present my first project for my fiction writing class, A Summer Soul. We spent the first few days working on six-word stories, three-line stories, and haikus. From our two favorite haikus we were to develop stories, one of which was eventually turned in for a grade.
Here you’ll find my haiku as well as the story that developed from it. Do enjoy! And don’t forget to leave feedback! 🙂
Wind rattles the firs.
Disgruntled snow dislodges and slips.
Hair is dampened.
Her bag was slung across her chest. The strap was digging uncomfortably into her shoulder, despite her many layers. Her scarf scratched her face and the tips of her fingers froze as she fumbled with her cell phone. She was a summer soul and the necessity of bundling up was just another thing making her late. The wind cut straight through her jeans, stabbing her thighs like icicles. The weight of the books and binders in her bag made her feel lopsided. Being awake at 8am when she felt she had only just gone to bed made her feel lopsided.
The freshly fallen snow did nothing to improve her mood. She didn’t notice how pristine the snow made her campus look. The way the cars, the trees, the fences were frosted with sparkling snow was lost on her. She found no joy in the delicately frozen brook as she stomped over the bridge.
A gust of the arctic twisted her hair around her face as she stepped off the bridge. The pathway was canopied by fir trees that suddenly shivered as though they too, were chilled by the wind. The simple shiver was enough to dislodge the snow that had adorned the firs’ branches.
She ducked her head just in time to spare her face, but the snow landed wetly on her hair and shoulders. She stood stubbornly in an accumulating pile of snow as it cascaded down onto her. Her face stayed safely hidden until the wind had stopped and the snow had settled.
He saw the whole thing happen from the other side of the bridge, just out of reach of the deluge of snow.
He snorted with laughter and the girl whipped her snowy hair around to face him, anger clearly etched in her scowl.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, crossing the bridge still laughing. “Only, you just stood there!”
Covered in the evidence, she didn’t know what to say to that.
“Here,” he said. He reached out and brushed the snow from the top of her shoulders.
He smiled, and still she didn’t know what to say.