The little white dog had been listening to the disappointed townspeople for weeks now; this would be the first year in a century without a white Christmas. The town’s livelihood depended on snow at this time of year. The residents were despondent. So, the pup decided it was time to see if he could do anything about it.
He set off on a cold but sunny winter’s day with the hope that he could sniff out the answer to making snow. But then he smelled meat pie cooking at the local pizza place.
No, no, no, he thought. Stay on task. Snow! I must find snow. A brightness filled his big brown eyes with an idea that might solve the town’s problems…
Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or less, write a story incorporating the elements in the picture and the written prompt above. Do not include the prompt in your entry. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.
Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.
Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until Tuesday at 5:00 PM Pacific Time. No political or religious entries, please. Need help getting started? Read this article on how to write flash fiction.
On Tuesday night, judges will select the strongest entries, and on Wednesday afternoon, we will open voting to the public with an online poll so they may choose the winner. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.
On Saturday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Then, at year end, the winners will be featured in an anthology like this one. Best of luck to you all in your writing!
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He made his way down to the river. The flow of the water was sluggish with ice crystals. He touched one small white paw to the ice; cold. Holding his breath, he waded in, walking on top of the thicker ice at first, then breaking through as the ice thinned further out. Finally he was swimming, his feet kicking free of the ground. It was cold! He swam around in a small circle, making sure his fur got completely saturated, then ducked down underneath the water. When he was soaked to the skin, he made his way out of the water onto the grass. He hoped it was enough.
He began to shiver with the cold. He wanted to lie down, curl up into a ball to get warm, but he couldn’t. He stayed on his feet, legs braced, feeling the cold seep into his body. The water in his fur began to crystallize; he could feel the needles of cold piercing his skin. His breath caught in his throat. It hurt! Not long now.
Finally he felt darkness overtake him. He didn’t fight it.
When he awoke, he was walking on clouds. His fur was still frozen, sticking out in all directions. Through a break in the clouds, he could see the town down below. Above him, the midnight star shone brightly. He began to shake his body. Small pieces of ice broke off and drifted down, turning into snowflakes. He shook harder, from his head to his stubby little tail. The snowflakes swirled down, more and more, clumping together, covering the grass and the streets, turning everything white.
On Christmas morning, the town awoke to bright, fluffy snow, so soft it felt like puppy fur. But no one noticed that the little white dog was gone.
Everywhere that Snowball looked he saw sad faces and drooped shoulders. Sally at the salon pat his head and gave a halfhearted smile. Even Happy Harold from the hardware store looked dejected.
All the gloomy faces made Snowball’s big brown eyes feel as blue as the clear sky. Snow Town hadn’t had any precipitation in months. Now it looked like there wouldn’t be a white Christmas. Tourists didn’t want to visit a snowless Snow Town. Some had already turned around to head for damper locations, making the town’s future look dim.
Snowball shivered, but not from the biting cold or the wind that whipped his fur up into a demented pom-pom. Five years ago he’d been a frightened, scrawny, half-starved pup. The people of Snow Town rescued him and gave him a loving new forever home. Now it was his turn to help them. If only he could make it snow.
The smell of Peta’s meat pie from the pizza place made Snowball’s mouth water. He had to stop and shake the delicious smell from his mind so he could focus on finding snow. Pizza couldn’t help. Or could it? Snowball jumped onto the counter and grabbed a jar of parmesan. With bounding leaps he spread the stuff around town, covering it with a layer of delicious white cheese. It didn’t take long for his people to understand his plan and join in the sprinkling. A few Facebook posts later, tourists flocked to see the best smelling ‘snowdrifts’ ever.
His white tail swished excitedly. The solution was a snow dance! He raced into the forest bordering the town. After selecting a tree, he proceeded to howl and prance around it. Then he waited, but no snow came. Slowly he walked towards home, dejected by the failure.
As he passed Main Street, he spotted Angeline’s familiar face. He thought of her homemade biscuits that rivaled the pizzeria’s meat pies. She’d been gone almost a year. If he recalled correctly, she’d closed up her shop and disappeared with her son right after the skiing accident.
“No biscuits today, Ziggy.”
He followed Angeline into her musty shop. Ziggy wandered curiously through a maze of antiques until he saw a snow globe on the floor. Nudging it with his nose, he sent the fake snow swirling.
Angeline knelt down, “Is this what you want?”
“Mom, we all want snow.” Ziggy’s tail wagged at the sight of Danny. “You’re being unreasonable! You can’t keep blaming this town, or snow, or winter, or skis, or whatever.”
With a resigned sigh, she ran her hands over the globe until it began to glow brightly. Mesmerized, Ziggy watched her undo her rash actions that had rendered the town cursed.
“Ziggy, come,” the pup jumped onto Danny’s lap. “I’ve missed you.”
The dog’s ears picked up a slight squeak as Danny maneuvered the wheelchair outside. Within minutes, beautiful snowflakes began to float from the sky. Smiling, Danny reached out and caught one while another landed on Ziggy’s nose.
Never mind no snow, there had not been a first frost this year. Without frost there could be no snow because everyone knew snow clouds were made up of only the finest grade of frost. Angel, the Christmas Town Dog, headed over the Elves Pizza Shop to find out what the local gossip was on this.
When Angle got there, he discovered Vinter the Frost Giant sitting at the counter eating hot Italian sausage meat pies, like there was no tomorrow. Angle hopped up on the stool next to Vinter, and barked, “Excuse me! Aren’t you supposed to be doing something else?”
Vinter popped another pie in his mouth and with a mouthful said, “No I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
Angle could not believe his little ears, “Why you’re in charge of Frost and without Frost there will be no snow, and without snow, Santa cannot land his sleigh to deliver gifts.”
Vinter had a perplexed look on his face, and said, “Oh yah! I knew I forgot to do something this year. Thanks for reminding me.” And Vinter zoomed out the door to take care of it.
Soon a light dusting of snow started drifting gently down. Just then, Stromboli the Pizza Elf came out of the kitchen with more meat pies. “Where did Vinter go? I got more for him.”
Thinking quickly, Angle barked, “Vinter said I could have them,” and Angel quickly filled his tummy with every last meat pie.
Further up Granish Way, past the Pizzariach, a bright white light shone from a bike’s basket outside Bothy’s Bike Rental and Sales. Regulus knew SHE would be able to make it snow. With his teeth and paws, he chewed at the leather hasp until it opened. Out flew a fairy!
The Cairgorm Mountains were known for their thriving fairy colonies. In Aviemore, Scotland it was quite common that inquisitive fairies hitched rides back to town, unbeknownst to the cycling tourists returning from The Fairy Tide Pools of Glenn Brittle.
Hovering above Regulus, fluttering her thanks, he implored, “Please! Could you bestow a blessing of snow for Aviemore? The Christmas Eve parade is a week away! Everyone is sad without snow!”
“I am only an Exchange Fairy and can bestow blessings only if someone is willing to part with something of great value to them!”
Regulus thought. Proud of his pristine white coat, it was the only thing of value he could give. Doing so would save the town, he was determined! With a twinkle in his eye, he agreed to return to the West Highland Terrier’s original color, bred from his clan long ago.
With a skip in his step, he headed home as pizza-size snowflakes began to coat the north end village streets. And as each large flake plopped on Regulus’ fur, his once white coat, became splotches of red, until he could be mistaken once again for the fiery fox he was bred to hunt a century ago.
The little dog noticed that a large branch was missing from the tree in the center of the yard. He considered the tree his flagship. The only difference this year was the loss of that branch, and the absent squirrels that lived there. Returning the tree to glory, could mean finding snow. His memory told him that the branch was taken past the house, past the delicious pizzeria, with the spicy sausage, and left down by the river. It would be driftwood soon if he didn’t hurry. To return the branch, meant the return of the squirrels, and instantly, snow.
Tracking down the steep incline, getting mud on his paws, he rolled down the hill. Not a problem to worry about now. He would figure out how to return the branch once he found it. A few steps later, the little white dog, now grey, walked over smooth rocks, making his paws soar. He thought he should have gotten a few bites of pepperoni for this trip. Looking up at the river, his eyes grew large, and his tongue hung low. He found the branch, half submerged in the lake. And to his surprise, he saw squirrels. Many were grey in color, one black, and one a beautiful bright white.
The black squirrel asked the little grey dog why he came here.
“I’m here to retrieve snow.”
“She’s not going anywhere!”
“Her name is Snow?”
No answer.
The little dog barked, as did the squirrels.
“Snow is coming home!”
“No!”
My white furry legs carried me across town. My adorable nose glistened in the sunlight. The aroma of warm meat pies distracted my bold intentions. A town full of disheartened individuals was more than enough cause for worry and alarm.
“No snow this year.”
“What could’ve caused this?”
“It’ll be a tough year ahead.”
Words could not elude my ears. The entire town was talking. Their emotions were overflowing, as their hearts brimmed with sorrow. The once lively atmosphere had dampened and the indifferent ice crystals were the culprits.
I finally reached my destination. The darkened windows heightened my canine instincts. Despite my cute puppy image, my courage was comparable to that of a ferocious lion. The distinctive scratching sound confirmed my identity. I was shown the way and delivered to the source of this disaster.
There she sat, prim and proper, her snow white hair fell upon her lean shoulders. Ruby red lips curved upwards to reveal a breathtaking smile. For a moment, my big brown eyes sank into the depths of her blue sparkling eyes. An abrupt growl snapped me out of my stupor. It was Lenny, the bull terrier.
The Snow Maiden shifted in her seat. She was nervous and ready to cooperate. My voice was steady.
“Ms. Snow, you must realize that we can never be together. You must forget about me.”
Tears flowed and her mushy heart began to harden. Her glowing skin turned absolutely white.
The first snowflake fell to the ground.
Somewhere between the oak trees and Main Street his snow idea fluttered away, his mind now hijacked with the meat pie mission. Begging outside the shop front: useless. His nose told him there were tasty pickings around the back; specifically it pointed to the garbage bag in the alley, and he was obliged to follow.
He tugged and shook. He clawed and nipped. He yapped, tossed and dragged that bag with his sturdy little teeth until finally, in the middle of Main Street, it burst open and pizza flour erupted forth to form a hazy cloud before settling on the pavement and him.
“Look Mommy.” A child pointed. “The little dog made snow.”
“He’s made a mess, that’s for sure. Come now, we’ve lots to do.”
That’s when he remembered he’d had something to do today, but what was it?
He paused, thinking, then gobbled down the delectable stale cheese and licked up the scrapings of solidified gravy and pan grease. With a full tummy he needed to sleep and what better place than his cushion next to the home fire. He never forgot his home. Anyway it was getting cold and the tips of his ears were forecasting snow so, covered in flour and a slice of pickle stuck to his belly, he trotted home.
Snowball drooled at the thought of being rewarded with a meat pie if he could cheer up his townspeople with a nice layer of white snow.
First he needed to find Gus, the Dalmatian. Gus lived at the firehouse and all dogs were familiar with the red fire hydrants in town. Snowball barked twice and waited for Gus to appear.
“What’s up Snowball?” Gus wagged.
“We have to save the town. Everyone is so unhappy. If we were to make snow, they would all cheer up.” Snowball nosed open the gate for Gus. Next stop, Remnar’s.
Remnar the lab, lived with the butcher and they knew that the room where all the delicious meat was stored was very cold; cold enough to make snow.
Together they hatched their plan. Remnar pulled the portable air cooler to the town square near the fire hydrant. Gus pulled the lever at the fire station and led the firetruck over to the townsquare. Snowball pulled the hose from the firetruck and hooked it to the hydrant. Remnar turned on the cooler full blast. It took the three of them to turn the hydrant on. When it finally loosened and water flowed, it took only moments for the square to be covered with white fluffy stuff.
The townspeople came to the square and cheered for the dogs, delivering a meat pie to each of them.
Snowball, with red sauce on his white whiskers, barked. “They don’t call me Snowball for nothing!”
Retracing his steps to the pizzeria, Frost gobbled down a meaty slice. He needed to pay Old Man Winter a visit and would need energy to make the long trip north.
By the time Frost made it to his door, Old Man Winter had settled in for the night. Frost’s cold paws scratched at the heavy wooden door.
The old man grumbled unhappily. “Who’s out here?”
“My name is F.f.frost, S.s.sir.” Frost stuttered nervously.
The door creaked open an inch. “What are you doing this far north little pup?”
“I’m wondering why you haven’t delivered snow to my town.” Frost gave a brave smile, his brown eyes sparkling.
Old Man Winter pointed to a picture of a white dog much like Frost, on his wall. “I just don’t have the heart for snow making anymore, after I lost my Jack.”
Frost licked at the tear drop trailing down the old man’s cheek. “I lost my owner and get lonesome too. Maybe we could be friends.” Frost had dreamt of belonging to someone again.
Old Man Winter was overjoyed at the idea and hugged Frost close. “You have made me very happy Frost.”
Frost returned the affection with a yelp and more licks.
The townspeople wondered where Frost had gone off to. He was no longer sneaking pizza from the pizzeria. There had been a large snowfall however, and they were very happy for that.