Friday, November 26, 2010
She cupped her hands and gently blew over her palms; the children saw only the snow, falling from her fingers. She was tall, very tall, and slim as an icicle. Her skis flew down the mountain she loved; straight as the path of an arrow, and twice as fast.
She loved winter; she was never cold, never tired of snow and ice. Her mother had known her name in the womb; Skaði, Skaði, Skaði she whispered, sending chills down her mother's spine.
© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel Glass icicle by Glasswich. Beadwoven from seed beads; embellished with quartz chips, angora rovings and vintage glass.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
She rolled over and squinted at the clock. 3: 04. Wide awake, she'd hoped it was later than that. The light from the neighbor's yard made it look like dawn in her bedroom, even through her shades.
Groaning, she turned her face resolutely to the wall and tried to go back to sleep. It's not morning, she told herself; not even close. If I get up now, I'll be ready for bed at 7:00 tonight.
Click. The light turned itself off automatically. It was night again.
At least until the next raccoon wandered by.
© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Time Machine Beaded Bead Pattern by Gwen Fisher and Florence Turnour of beAd Infinitum.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
It was snowing outside but she knew she'd never feel the cold. She would be whisked from her penthouse apartment into a heated car so fast that she wouldn't even need a wrap.
She hadn't always been rich; deep in her consciousness was a visceral memory of cold and hunger; of nearly freezing to death on nights like these. She'd hungered for everything in those days; she'd dreamed of living warm and protected. She smiled, graciously acknowledging her host and benefactor.
It was a different kind of cold.
© 2010 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel. Swarovski crystals and seed beads. Pattern available in my Artfire and Etsy Shops.