Jack – Flash Fiction

He was haughty, he was vain. He glided across fields, mountains and hedgerows, stick thin arms outstretched to engulf the landscape around him. Trickling frozen streams shimmered in the moonlight and the autumn leaves fell to the ground and split and crackled. On and on over the land he glided, making icicles under the eaves of houses. Nearby an owl hooted and shook his feathers, fending off cold. All round he spread his icy touch in the fields were blanketed white and crunched underfoot. Sheep huddled together. The dawn brought a watery sun and our haughty friend disappeared.

Isobel Scott

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