5: [Short Stories #4 ] A Red Flower Among the Ice [1/3] 13775
The radio crackled softly in the dim kitchen, the announcer’s voice steady but tinged with concern.
“This week, heavy snow is expected. Please be careful if you must travel and …”
Karl was busy on the living room floor, toy cars rattling loudly in his hands as they scattered across the rug. His father, standing in the kitchen doorway, raised a hand gently.
“Karl, please, not so much noise. I want to listen to what they’re saying on the radio.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Karl muttered, setting one of his cars aside, his brow furrowed with boredom.
Their mother entered, phone pressed to her ear, a tired sigh escaping her lips.
“No classes this week,” she announced.
Karl groaned, “Another boring week stuck at home.”
“Dinner’s ready,” his mother called, her voice breaking the silence. “Come eat before it gets cold.”
Karl trudged to the table, the long winter night stretching out before him—cold and quiet, just like the thick ice blanketing the world beyond their windows. The house felt suspended in time, the wind whistling now and then, the only other sound the gentle hum of the old radio. Outside, street lamps cast faint halos through frosted glass.
The days passed slowly, one blending into the next, each wrapped in an endless layer of white. The world outside seemed to hold its breath, every noise muffled by the heavy snow. Streets once filled with color and movement were now hushed and blank, as if time itself had frozen.
At last, on the final day of the week, their mother opened a window wide.
“Look,” she whispered. “The snow has stopped. It’s beautiful today.”
Karl hurried to her side, eyes wide as he peered out. The garden glistened beneath the weak morning sun, untouched except for delicate patterns of frost sparkling quietly.
“Can I go outside? Just for a little while?” Karl pleaded, his hope unmistakable.
His mother smiled softly.
“Okay, but dress warmly—and don’t go too far.”
Bundled up in scarf and mittens, Karl stepped outside, his breath clouding in the crisp air. He clutched his favorite toy car, venturing into the silent, frozen yard. Everywhere he looked, white shimmered—nature itself seemed on the verge of beginning anew.
Suddenly, amid the endless white, a surprising splash of color caught his eye.
“What’s that?” Karl whispered.
Moving closer, he saw it: a single brave red flower pushing through the icy crust, vivid and alive against the snow. Its petals tilted upward, reaching as if to catch every drop of sunlight.
The sight filled Karl with wonder.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “What are you doing here, all alone?”
He circled the flower, curiosity mounting. He didn’t understand how anything so small, so delicate, could survive here.
“I’ll take you home with me,” he decided. Gently, he cupped his hands to pull the flower free—but it didn’t budge. Its roots, deep within the ice, held fast. Karl tried again, but it remained stubbornly in place.
Disappointed and hungry, the little boy picked up his toy car and made his way back indoors.
That evening, as the family gathered for dinner, his mother asked, “Karl, how was your walk today? You didn’t say anything when you came inside.”
Karl hesitated, then replied quietly, “I found a red flower growing in the ice.”
Everyone laughed. His father teased, “Poor flower, it must be freezing out there!” They chuckled, but Karl was stung. No one believed what he’d seen.
After dinner, the house quieted once more. The family went to bed, the next day would be the start of a new week—school would resume.
Morning came. Karl’s mother called up the stairs, “Karl, time to get up for school!”
No answer. She climbed to his room.
Karl was not in the room…
