At Cloud Central, things were getting interesting. The cloud in question was so full of water, it
kept hitting the tops of tall buildings and hills as it dragged its heavy cargo
across the countryside. If clouds could talk this one would be swearing, a lot.
Inside, all the tiny droplets of water were waiting. They
stood in long rows like nervous soldiers, looking for signs from their cloud
mother that it would soon be time to go.
Unfortunately, a few
impatient drops couldn’t wait for Momma’s big green light, so they just jumped
anyway and hoped for the best. The cloud hardly felt a thing as a few thousand droplets
all joined hands and shouted ‘Geronimo’!
Sadly, the cold North Wind was far too busy making pretty
patterns on a large lake to notice the kamikaze bunch as they slipped past him,
catching a team of practising footballers by surprise. The coach tried to put up his large golfing brolly,
but the shower was over before it opened.
High above in the heavily pregnant cloud, the light switched
from red to amber and five billion babies all shouted ‘Yes!’
“Any second
now” said Sam, a fat little female, shaking like a watery jelly. She didn’t
have to wait long. The amber light flickered, dimmed and was replaced by a
bright green “GO”. The mother cloud thought about adding some special effects,
like thunder or lightening. After all it was nearly Christmas. At the very last second she decided against
it, so as not to frighten a large herd of cow’s right underneath her trailing
skirts.
Right on cue, the North wind stopped doodling and went to meet
the latest batch of wannabe snowflakes. A migrating flock of Canada Geese put
pay to the dreams of a few thousand, as they sliced through them in a huge grey
arrow formation. Luckily, Sam wasn’t
amongst this first wave. She was busy trying to unstick herself from a small
red spider that had hitched a ride over from France.
“You need to
shake your third leg, not your fourth!” screamed Sam, pulling and twisting as
hard as she could. The spider was far too busy repairing a small hole in his
cobweb parachute to hear her.
“This cannot be
happening to me”. Yelled Sam. Come on, or I’ll miss my chance!” She could see all her brothers and sisters
below her, whooping with excitement. Finally, the spider stepped back to
examine his handiwork and felt a little trickle of water on the hairs of his
third leg, so he shook her off.
“Ye-s!” yelled
Sam, feeling the air rushing past her chubby little body as she fought to stay
in shape.
“They never
mentioned this at flight school.” Every few seconds her arms and legs would break
free and Sam had to suck them back in again before they left her body for good.
A few thousand feet below, the North Wind was working his
magic. He liked this part of the job, because he got to create something
amazing for a change. Most of the time he just pushed stuff about, like some
old caretaker pushing an icy broom. Talking of ice, he started blowing gently
on the water babies, as though they were pollen. Little by little the soft
squidgy droplets began to freeze. He gave them tiny transparent bones from
which new hands and feet started to sprout.
He also loved the sound they made as they froze - like someone
rubbing the side of a balloon. A billion or so laughing, squeaking snowflakes
is a noise the wind never wants to forget.
Sam was getting closer. She squeezed herself into a narrow
spikey shape so she could fall a bit faster. It seemed to be working. The wind
got louder and louder. Above the streets and houses, flurries of just - born
snowflakes whirled and danced. Some stuck to chimney pots and TV aerials.
Others banded together in clumps, for safety.
The earliest arrivals sacrificed themselves, melting into the
tarmac like tiny white ghosts. Before long though, they stopped melting and
started settling. Delicate lace footprints began appearing on the streets and
pavements as more and more snowflakes were born.
And then, as quick as it had begun, the snowflakes stopped
falling. People looked up into the sky, their mouths wide open, as if to say
“is that it?” The North Wind stopped blowing too and had a quick look around to
check for any stragglers.
“Hey! Yelled
Sam, as loud as she could. Wait for me!” It was too late; the North Wind sighed
deeply and started to move away. This was a disaster for Sam. She’d come so
far. It couldn’t end like this, it just couldn’t.
Now, as a rule, an empty-headed cloud isn’t the most reliable
of mothers, but for some reason this one had very good hearing. She heard Sam’s
tiny voice and decided to help out. Even though it was most definitely ‘against
the rules’ she produced a small bolt of lightning and fired it right in front
of the winds face.
“What the...
said the North Wind looking upwards. Doesn’t she read her own memos?” As he
looked up he caught sight of something twinkling in the sunlight. He moved a
little higher and saw a small, fairly insignificant water droplet falling like
a dart.
“There’s always
one.” Said the wind, smiling broadly. He
took a deep breath, as though he was about to blow down a large tree and let
fly. By the time it reached Sam it wasn’t half as strong, and she felt herself
changing as she fell to earth.
So this is what it’s like – being a
snowflake? She thought, as she stared wide-eyed at the new icy ball gown
forming around her. The kind North Wind sighed for the last time and blew off
to make some mischief with a so-called windproof skyscraper.
In back gardens all over town, children were already throwing
snowballs and making snowmen and women, while their parents took them gloves
and hot cups of tea. In one particular
house though, there were no children playing, nor were there any signs of life,
at all. Sam was almost at the ground, and she too sighed and smiled like the
North Wind, because her only wish had finally been granted and she didn’t mind
what happened next.
On the top floor of the dark, silent house a window creaked
open and a rather wrinkly hand came out. The hand belonged to a very sad old
lady who had just lost her husband. She shivered at the cold air on her hand
and was just about to pull it in when she squinted up into the sky.
“It can’t be.”
She said, screwing up her red-rimmed eyes.
“You’d better
believe it!” shouted Sam as she threw out her tiny frosted arms and legs. The
old lady slowly opened her fingers and watched as Sam came to rest on her cold
bony hand. A face that had cried so many tears the night before, cried one more
just as Sam, the last little snowflake melted away.
© Simon Daniels
