The Snowflake Chronicles

what makes me, me

13 Izzat 163 B.E. – September 20, 2006

“Well, are you going to take the challenge,” Sourepsorp shouted at me from across the chasm that separated us.

“I don’t know, Sour,” I yelled back at him, then walked toward the wooden bridge. “When was the last time we talked?”

“We never talk, Snow.” I could tell that he was pissed; he always has a disgruntled frown when he is angry with me.

“That’s not true; you helped me write "The Lamentation Of Adam And Eve"   by Prosperous Snow celebrating .” I stopped at the bridge and waited for him to decide if he was going to cross to my side. “I couldn’t have written Adam’s part if it weren’t for you.”

“That was a long time ago.” He stopped and looked directly across the bridge at me. “So whose turn is it to cross this time? Yours or mine.”

“Why don’t we meet each other in the center of the bridge?”

“OK, but aren’t you afraid of heights?”

“No, I’m afraid of spiders.”

“All right, the bridge’s center it is!” We stepped onto the wooden suspension bridge at the same time.

“Careful this thing sways.” I smiled as we both held on for dear life and inched our way to the center of the ancient structure.

“Sour, what do you want to talk about this time?” I was beginning to think meeting in the center of that bridge was not a good idea.

“Judging from the look and the way this bridge sways, building a new one.”

“That would be a good idea, Sour, especially if we’re going to collaborate on any more poems.”

“Let’s co-write a story, Snow.”

“I’m for that. What’s the subject, Sour?”

“Snow, I don’t care what the subject is, as long as there’s a Harley in the story.”

“A classic Harley or a new one, Sour?”

“A classic,” he smiled wickedly.