I’m taking a badly-needed technology break! To keep you entertained without my daily nonsense, I’m posting the complete stories of Jane Storegoer, a character who sprang to being during the #AtoZChallenge in 2016. During my break, I’ll post the installments daily. Can’t wait? Catch the rest of the posts here. They start from the bottom. Hope you enjoy!
With the soggy sounds of fighting behind her, Jane tried to process what her eyes were seeing.
It was beautiful.
There before her icy crystals heaped in their glistening glory, large enough to show off every intricate line. Forming mounds and then hills, and then finally peaks in the distance, they gave off a scent of fresh chill, like a cold morning before winter truly settles in.
Far beyond, in a white backdrop, a sheer wall of sparkling white stretched far up beyond where Jane could see.
“Sheesh,” said Barry. “You’d think you’d never seen the inside of a freezer before.” Its head was somewhat squashed and lopsided from its recent up-ending.
“What?” Jane tried to snap back from her wonder.
“It’s just the inside of a freezer,” it said, “and this isn’t my neighborhood, so I suggest we get–”
“Anyone miss me?” said Iris, her tofu gouged and nicked in a few spots, but no worse for the wear. She was holding the flap closed, the sound of wet splotches hitting the other side.
“Iris!” said Jane. “You fought them all off?”
“Extra firm my off-white behind,” she said. “Huh. This is pretty.” She nodded in the direction of the landscape.
“See?” said Jane.
“ONE MORE SPLAT AND I WILL MEAT UP THE JOINT,” Iris yelled through the cardboard.
The noise on the other side stopped.
She stood up, and brushed her wobbly hands against one another. “That’s what I thought. So, what’s the plan?”
“I’d like to get out of here and back to normal size,” Jane said. “Or nearly normal size, I wouldn’t mind dropping a pound or two.”
“And yet you tried to buy me to eat me,” said Barry.
“Hey!” Jane and Iris glared at Barry in unison.
“Seriously, let’s go, I don’t like it around here.” Barry hopped onward, determinedly, the tip of its cone sinking into the snow. But not fast enough.
“Well, well well. If it isn’t Barry, same old floppy-coned Barry,” came from a short distance away.
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