Snowflake Read online

  The new snowstorm lasted all day and all night, and when it was over, Snowflake was buried under many feet of the new fall.

  It was quite dark and she could no longer see anything.

  But although she could not see, she could still hear, and, listening, she tried to guess the things that were happening above her.

  Snowflake knew, for instance, that the peasant must be driving the grey cow home to milk, for she heard her soft moo, and the gentle tinkling of the square bell around her neck.

  Thus she strained eagerly for all the well-known sounds that told her that even while she lay buried and forgotten, life in the village was going on. She heard the church clock strike the hours and the bells ring out to come to service. There were the sounds of wood being sawed, nails being hammered and roosters crowing.

  Dogs barked, cats meowed. There were footsteps and people hailed one another with “Gruess Gott!” as they passed. She even thought that once she heard the laughter of the little girl with the red cap and mittens, and it made her sad with longing for her, for she felt that she might never see her again.

  Thus began a new life for Snowflake, and it was not a happy one. Each time there was a fresh storm, or the rain fell and turned the surface to a hard crust of ice, it grew deeper and darker where she lay.

  Soon even the sounds barely came through to her, and when they did, they were muffled so that she could hardly make them out. Often it was difficult to tell whether it was the church bells calling to mass, or the hammer of the metal-smith; whether it was the merry cries and shouts of the school children or the gabble of the chickens, whether it was the lowing of the grey cow or the whistle of the railway train running along the river far away in the valley below.

  But what made Snowflake the saddest, sadder even than missing the gay children, or the sight of the sunrise and the sunset and the feel of the crisp cool air against her cheek, or losing her beautiful shape and having to lie there in the dark, muddied and soiled, was the thought that she had been abandoned by the One who had created her and whose love had made her feel so happy and secure in the cradle of the wind when first she was born.

  Buried there, Snowflake thought that surely this could not be the end, that she had been born only to see a sunrise, hear a little girl laugh, and become the nose on a snowman.

  When she remembered the care with which she had been made and the love she had felt she knew that it could not be so but only perhaps that she had been forgotten. One who could create so many stars in the sky, who could think of a church with a steeple like an onion, who could put together a grey cow with soft eyes and people a whole village, must be very busy.

  And so she decided that she would speak to Him and ask Him to help her. And when she had thought this it seemed to her as if He were there, close to her and listening.

  She said: “Dear One who made me, have you forgotten me? I am lonely and afraid. Please help me. Take me out of the darkness and let me see the light once more.”

  And having asked that, she added timidly, “I love you.”

  As soon as she had said that she no longer felt so lonely but happy and excited instead as though perhaps something wonderful might be about to happen to her.

  It began first with a strange drumming that sounded from overhead and seemed to go on endlessly. Snowflake had never before heard anything like it, for it was the noise made by rain when first it falls in the early spring upon the hard crust of the winter’s snow.

  Yet, somehow, Snowflake had the feeling that whatever was happening above was welcome and might be in answer to her prayer. Her fears were quieted and she listened to the new sound with a sense of comfort and hope.

  The drumming softened to a plashing to which was added now a gentle murmuring. The long rains at last had filtered down from above and the waters were moving restlessly beneath the layers of frozen snow and ice that still covered the earth.

  Then one day the rain ceased and it began to grow lighter. At first Snowflake could not believe it was true. But the darkness in which she had lived so long turned to deep blue, then emerald green, changing to yellow as though a strong light were shining through a heavy veil.

  The next moment, as though by magic, the veil was lifted. Overhead the sun, warm and strong, burned from a cloudless sky. Snowflake was free once again. Her heart gave a great shout:

  “The sun! The sun! Dearly beloved sun! How glad I am to see you.”

  Snowflake was filled with gratitude for her release, and she cried out: “Oh thank you, thank you!” just in case the One who had heard her prayer and had freed her from her dark prison might be listening.

  Then for the first time she looked about her and was filled with renewed surprise and delight.

  What a different world it was from the mass of grey and white into which she had been born. Now everything was fresh and green and carpeted with flowers.

  True, the high mountain peaks were still capped with white and a few small patches of snow yet lingered on the hillside, but everywhere there was young and tender grass and Snowflake caught a glimpse of small white blossoms like tiny bells on curved green stems.

  There were all the old familiar sights, the square schoolhouse, the church, the gaily painted houses of the village, but the trees that once had bent beneath the burden of snow now proudly lifted high their new buds in their arms to show them to the sun.

  Since Snowflake had been the first to arrive of the winter’s fall upon the mountain, so she had been the last to be uncovered. All about her now there was the rushing, liquid music of running waters.

  And because of the great joy and happiness she felt, Snowflake too began to run.

  She ran over the smooth grass on to the path and down the hill past the butcher store where the fat sausages hung in rows in the window, past the bakery piled high with new brown loaves, across the market square and by the schoolhouse where at the window she caught a glimpse of the little girl with the red cheeks raising her hand to answer a question put by Herr Hüschl, the teacher.

  She ran under a fence and over a gutter; she ran through the farm of the peasant who owned the grey cow, past the barn and around the haystack, over the yellow feet of a white hen engaged in pulling a worm from the ground, and under a black cat who leaped into the air and shook his paw in the most amusing manner.

  She ran past a boy bouncing a rubber ball and another spinning a top; she ran over a meadow that was full of yellow primroses and across a field where a farmer with his two big horses was cutting a deep furrow with his plough. She ran through a quiet wood and awakened the first violet beneath its broad green leaf. She ran . . .

  And as she did so she noticed for the first time that something strange had happened to her. She was different from what she had been before.

  A most wondrous and exciting change had taken place. Snowflake was no longer a lace-like creature of stars and crosses, triangles and squares all woven into one pattern that was all her own. Now she was round and as pure as the morning light, crystal clear and like a tiny silver mirror she was able to catch and give back every colour in the world about her.

  One moment she took on the emerald green of a frog sitting on a piece of moss, and the next she flashed crimson as for an instant she reflected the gill of a swift darting brook trout.

  She copied the deep purple of a crocus growing near the bank, changed to the yellow of the first buttercups, and a minute later took on the sombre brown of an old oak tree.

  Thereafter she mirrored the pale pink of the cherry blossom, then the tint of orange filched from the breast of a robin as he flew by, and the light blue of the spring sky. The grey of a rock, the black of a crow’s glossy wing, the dapple of a young calf, all were hers.

  But there was another change that had taken place as well.

  Snowflake could not stop running once she had started down the hill. She did not know that she had begun a long journey, that she must run evermore and that not until the end of her days would she ever again be stil
l.

  All about her were her brothers and sisters who had tumbled out of the sky with her the day she was born and who too had changed from white snow to crystal clear water, and they had joined Snowflake on her voyage.

  But now it was more than merely running over the hill. It was a kind of a mad dash, a leaping over beds of smooth stones and pebbles, a flinging of oneself down, down, downwards with a sweet sense of freedom, of making music as one went, a splashing, murmuring, gurgling, rushing that lifted Snowflake’s heart and made her feel happier than she ever had been before.

  How thrilling life had become, throwing oneself over the edge of a little falls to tumble unharmed into a frothing pool below, dashing around jagged rocks or moving in stately fashion through a deep dark pool where a willow dipped its young shoots.

  What sights there were to be seen as Snowflake went rushing down the side of the mountain sometimes in bright sunshine and at others through the dark of pine forests which the sun had not yet warmed so that at times she ran between banks of snow still unmelted and saw brothers and sisters of hers that had not yet been changed and must still wait.

  To them she called back gaily: “Come . . . come . . . Do not stay there so cold and unhappy. It is spring. There is so much to be seen and so much to be done. Follow me . . . follow me away, dear brothers and sisters!”

  But there was not even time to look back to see if they were coming, so fast was she leaping and dashing over rock and rill until she came to the bottom of the mountain where flowed a broader but more placid stream winding between low green banks. Alongside it ran the railway with every so often a train passing by filled with people.

  Snowflake saw that this was the distant valley and the tiny toy railway that she used to see from high on top of the mountain where she had lived when she was a child. She felt quite grown up when she entered the dark-green, glassy waters of the stream.

  With a froth and a swirl, the mountain brook entered the valley stream and Snowflake with it, and at once she began to move off with the strong, deep, steady current of the water.

  There was yet time for Snowflake to look behind her for one last glimpse of whence she had come. High up on the green mountain she saw the houses of the village clinging to the side of the hill. She could even make out the white schoolhouse with the dark shingled roof, and the grey stone church with the steeple shaped like an onion, only now it was their turn to look tiny like the toys of children.

  To her surprise she saw that the peak of the mountain that rose high above the village was still white and covered with snow.

  And she thought how strange that so many of her brothers and sisters had been fated to remain behind while she had been chosen to change into what she was and go on to see the world. And she wondered why. Then she thought of the One who had made her and who must love her more than all the others, since He was so kind to her. Yes, that must be it.

  Not long after, Snowflake had an adventure which frightened her.

  She was aware that she had been moving faster and faster for a while, almost as quickly as the railway cars pulled by the engine with a great noise and clatter along the tracks nearby.

  The banks of the stream narrowed and Snowflake could hear a far-away rushing and roaring, but quite different from the noise made by the train and somehow she knew that it would have to do with her.

  Even the surface of the water of which she was a part now became uneasy, forming into little swirls and whirlpools at times and at others hurling itself forward like a wall of molten glass.

  Faster and faster it went. Louder and louder grew the roaring. It seemed as though all about Snowflake arose a cry: “Look out, everyone, here we go!”

  And then with a rumble like thunder, over she went, into a black abyss, and the next moment, gasping, choking, drowning, she was whipped to a white froth, crushed, torn and churned by the great wooden wheel of a mill.

  Splash! she went on to the broad wooden blade of the wheel, blinded and crushed by the weight of the water thundering down upon her from above whence she had come.

  Her ears were made deaf by the turmoil of the falls, the rumbling of the huge wheel, the creakings and the groanings that came from all its parts as it trembled beneath the force of the water and slowly turned and the harsh noise of the grindstones clashing within.

  She could not even cry for help so shaken was she by what was happening to her. She was sure that she had reached the end of her days and was about to perish.

  Then the wheel sank beneath the weight of the water and Snowflake found herself freed again. She fell into a turmoil of foaming white froth and was swept away. A moment later she was again a part of the calm stream, gliding along past newly budded trees.

  But back at the mill, behind her, she heard a woman saying to the miller: “What beautiful white flour! I will buy a kilo and bake bread for my husband and my children.”

  The mountains on either side of the valley became smaller and less rugged. The stream met another coming from the west, and running beneath the grey arch of a stone bridge that had been built by the legions of Caesar, the two were joined together to make a small river that moved along at a more stately pace. With them went Snowflake.

  She was still shaken and trembling because of what had happened to her at the mill wondering what new perils lay before her and whether she would have the courage and the strength to meet them. She even considered whether it might perhaps not be better to be lying quietly and safely in the peaceful snowfields of the mountain peaks that were now all but vanished in the distance.

  It was the being alone that was the most discouraging. True, she was surrounded on all sides by others like herself, but this, she found, made for one’s being even lonelier, for they were all busy with themselves and nowhere did she hear a friendly voice nor did anyone seem to care about her or what happened to her.

  Until one bright warm day, all this was changed.

  The river had become both wider and deeper. Sometimes Snowflake was in the cool green depths admiring the movements of the long, swift pike, the eager perch, the lazy, graceful trout. At others she was swept along the surface past trees, houses and villages that were becoming more like towns.

  It was during one of the latter that she heard a voice beside her say:

  “Hello. You’re a snowflake, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” replied Snowflake.

  “I think you’re beautiful,” said the voice.

  Snowflake was astonished and pleased. It was the first time that anyone had noticed her or spoken to her directly.

  “Do you really?” she said. “That is very kind. But who are you?”—and she looked all about her to see who it could have been who had spoken.

  “Here I am,” said the voice right beside her. “I am a Raindrop.”

  Snowflake looked then in the direction whence the voice came, and saw him. And sure enough it was a Raindrop.

  He was large, strong and handsome in a pear-shaped way, and Snowflake thought that he too was beautiful as he floated along next to her, sparkling in the sunshine and reflecting the colour of the sky.

  How good it was to have someone to talk to! She asked: “Where did you come from?”

  “Out of the sky, like yourself,” Raindrop replied. “I was born in a cloud many months ago, but did not fall until only a few days ago. I followed you down the mountain. But I didn’t dare speak to you before.”

  “No?” Snowflake asked. “Why?”

  “Because you are so beautiful.”

  Snowflake thought this a strange reason for not speaking to someone, but not wishing to be impolite, did not say so. And besides it pleased her to have him say it again.

  Now Raindrop spoke more shyly. “I say,” he said, “but you were brave in that mill-race. I was sure we were done for. But I was watching you and it gave me courage.”

  A most delicious feeling stole over Snowflake. Someone had thought her brave when she was sure she had been more frightened than anyone . . .
/>   Snowflake said to Raindrop: “Tell me about your being born. What was it like?”

  “It happened over Iceland, I think,” Raindrop replied. “It seemed as though I woke up one morning, and there I was part of a cloud that contained many other raindrops like myself.”

  He continued: “We travelled for a long time pulled or pushed by the wind, here, there and everywhere. When we looked down from the sky, all we could see was snow and ice. Sometimes we saw heavy clouds beneath us and the snowflakes falling, but we remained high up because it was not yet our time.”

  “Why was it not yet your time?” Snowflake asked.

  “I do not know,” replied Raindrop. “Who can say? Then one day we met a current of warm air and we began to fall.”

  Snowflake remembered her own descent. And this led her once more to remember Him. She asked: “Who made us? Why did we fall? Why were we sent here? Did you ever feel as though some One loved you very much and was watching over you?”

  Raindrop replied: “I do not know. I only know that since I first saw you I have not been able to think of anything else, only you. Will you come with me, Snowflake?”

  Again, the warm, happy feeling came over Snowflake. It was good to have someone near her who cared about her.

  She replied to Raindrop: “How kind you are! Will you wait? I cannot give you my answer yet.”

  “I will wait,” Raindrop replied.

  The land was changing all about them. The high jagged mountains had disappeared and in their place were low, rolling hills and meadows covered with flowers. Towns along the banks became more frequent. Sometimes the river flowed straight as an arrow, others it would wind and twist like a serpent. And no one could tell what lay ahead.

  Yet all of the time Snowflake felt secure and comforted because Raindrop was near her and never strayed from her side. One day, Snowflake felt that she was certain.