“Why’d you give me this name, anyway?” asked Last Snow.
“Your mother and I called you that because we brought you home in a snowstorm,” her father said. “We figured it was the last one we’d ever see, and we were right.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back.
“I heard there’s some rice left in Boston. I’ll take the gun and head over. You stay here, out of sight.” He shaded his eyes and looked through the greenery at the empty street.
“It’s already New Year’s,” he said. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
———-
The world turns, the Fourier transform’s still on my wavelength, and I’ve got just enough sleep to walk around but not enough to boot up whatever scraps of intelligence I had previously. Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:
glossarch 
This is at once peaceful and disturbing. Well done.
Thank you!
Dear Danny,
Last snow? This sounds post apocalyptic.
Be assured the sleep deprivation is temporary. The first few months are the hardest, but it does get better, I promise. Those tiny things that scream in the night grow up to become people. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
Yes, there is a bit of P-A to the story. I hope my daughter never sees such a world.
The gentle start of the story contrasts so well with the post-apocalyptic story of winning some rice in Boston.
Thanks. I try my best to lull the reader – the darkness is hidden in the end 🙂
I love that you’ve invented a word, and Last Snow is a sweet name with a sad derivation.
Thank you!
Where life seems to be heading…
Randy
Yes, hope I don’t live to see it get that far.
Last Snow. I don’t think I would like that name. There’s something kind of final about it. Gee! It can’t be a good thing that the snow is gone, although continual greenery would not be a better alternative. Somehow, I’ve heard about this, read about it…oh, it’s happening, isn’t it?
By the time it stops snowing in Massachusetts, we’ll really be in trouble!