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Post 1652. Sunday December 17

Sunday Photo Fiction

It was cold. So cold, I swear I saw my children’s snowman shiver. Every breath was painful, it was as cold as a winter’s night could be. I walked down the twisting lane heeding every step lest I slip on the carpet of snow beneath my feet. Either side the grassy banks stood rigid, white. White topped hedgerows sparkled in the moonlight, and distant barren trees wove a border of lace twixt the glistening field and the grey winter’s sky above. The shadow of a man, head bowed kept me company. It was mine.

I trudged into the village. There was not a soul to be seen, just six disgruntled ducks standing motionless on the frozen pond. All was quiet but for the crunching of the snow beneath my boots. As I turned a corner I saw a distant golden glow. As I walked towards it, quietly at first, then more loudly, the sound of merriment and laughter filled the air. I had arrived. I pushed open the heavy oak door at once my spirits rose amid the sounds, smells, and warmth of the ancient inn.

“Mine's a brandy landlord, and make it a large one!”

Word count 196