Each One is Different

For more than a mile it fell, meandering its way through clouds and fog, finally coming to rest on the windshield of my car. The first snowflake of the season. The harbinger of Yule and good tidings. Of a weather whose only colour is fair. Of snowstorms and icy rain. And the bitter frost that bites through the flesh.

The snowflake lay on my windshield for the briefest of moments. Then it melted away into nothingness.

But its life was not spent in vain. Like a scouting driver ant, it had left a toxic trail along its path. Soon the others will be here. Thousands at first, then in their billions. Relentless, they'll march on, till the earth is covered with the white plague. A super-organism of immense proportions that'll lay claim to everything in its path. None shall escape the vice like grip of its icy talons. Helpless, we must lie and wait till the great yellow face arrives in all its fury and burns away the hordes. But for now, the yellow face is far away. And the hordes draw near.

Sitting in my car, I shiver just a little.