The icy cold winter winds violently whistled as the sheets of blinding white snow buried the unassuming abode. Inside sat a child of about seven, peering blankly out the window, at the largest snowfall in Wisconsin since 1881. Unlike his siblings, he was cautious, quiet, and yet he seemed drawn to these moments of loudness, of violence, capturing his attention as the electronics seemed to capture his siblings. His mother thought he was kind and gentle and timid. His siblings thought he was dull and stupid. But underneath the outward facade of indifference, of quietude and careful motions, lay a world all of his own creation, swirling like madness beneath his oval skull. One day they might know the truth.
About Fiction Fridays: In September of 2016, I challenged myself to complete several super short stories of 10-15 sentences each, following my morning meditation. I’ve continued writing small bursts of fiction to stimulate my imagination. Some of these stories are from that period; some are from now. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed writing them.