Snowfall Poetry Novels & Stories

The frostlands stretched before them like a vast, endless sea of white, fractured only by jagged ice formations that jutted from the ground like the broken teeth of some long dead beast. Under the pale moonlight, the frozen world shimmered, beautiful and merciless all at once. Snow drifted endlessly across the plains, whispering against itself as though the land were breathing.

The first snow of winter arrived on the longest night of the year. It was a soft, unhurried snowfall, the kind that transformed the world into a hushed, white stillness. Maya stood at the kitchen window, a mug of tea warming her hands, watching the flakes drift down and settle on the bare branches of the garden. The lighthouse was a pale, ghostly shape against the grey sky, its light still turning, patient and steady.

A gust of cold air blew in as soon as the door opened, the breath was white mist. The sky darkened, and the falling snow seemed to be painted with a layer of light in the light, falling quietly. It was beautiful. Jane stood there looking at the snowscape, forgetting to leave. In a trance, a tall figure approached step by step. The man was wearing a black wool coat, and as he walked, the coat was lifted, revealing a suit of the same color. He stepped on the thin layer of snow, leaving his footprints. Snowflakes fell and landed on his shoulders. There was an additional layer of white on his black cloth. Some snowflakes melted and turned into small drops of water. They sparkled under the light

But instead, it's another one of those strange poems that comes out of me. "He who's lost will come back again, at the other end, no longer a friend. "Two are the faces of those in command, grander schemes to darken the land. "The monster's den remains wide open, giving the traitors nowhere to hide." My spirit rushes back inside me, and suddenly I'm aware that I'm kneeling on the ground, my clothes soaking up all the cold water from the melting snow. I look around vaguely, only to be shocked by the sight of a perfect ring of melted snow all around me, almost like I emitted a ray of heat.

And then Knight whispered, ‘Caleb, look up. The blossom was dying. It fell from the trees, falling slowly, sadly, to the earth. I froze, a sob building in my chest as I watched the petals twirl to the ground. The once-green buds beside them withered, turning brown and drying out before they, too, tumbled down. A snowflake landed on my nose. It melted as it touched my skin. Another fell, then another. It was snowing again. It was snowing again. I fell to my knees. The moss was shrivelling up; I hit hard stone.

A/N: After this chapter all others will be in character point of views. *** It was past midnight; the moon was high in the sky, shining its rays of moonlight for the creatures of the dark, and the beings that lurked within the darkness, but soon it was hidden by clouds that dropped soft snowflakes onto the earth. Wisped away by the chilly air, the snowflakes made their way down, slowly and elegantly, like a passionate dancer, who was coupled with the frosty air. The heavy snow kept falling from the skies and onto the ground like it was an unstoppable rising mountain. It seemed all the stars had made an appearance in the sky for tonight, only to be hidden behind the clouds. It was all in all

It was over. The first snowflake landed on my nose. Then another. We looked up. The clear twilight sky was cloudless. Yet, snow was falling—thick, silent, and as perfectly white and seamless as a Watcher’s cell. But this was different. Each flake was not just white; it was a tiny, frozen shard of silence. Where they landed, sound didn't just mute; it was extinguished. The chirp of a cricket, snuffed. The babble of the creek, gone. The wind in the pines, erased.

If I could just think clearly… if I could just stop shaking… maybe I could fix this. With a sudden thump, I sank onto the floor near the window. The wooden boards were cold beneath me, their chill seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes. Snowflakes slipped in through the slight opening of the window, landing softly on my lap like fragile pieces of a broken sky. A gust of wind brushed against my face, mingling with the tears that now flowed freely down my cheeks. The cold feels almost alive, biting, reminding me of everything I can’t control. Everything that’s slipping away.

The snowflakes fall like precious diamonds from the sky. I was surprised by how quiet everything seemed. I could feel the Cold wind whipping against my face and tingling cold fingertips. The only sound I could hear was my boot crunching in the snow. The smell of damp pine trees made the air feel fresh and clean. My red cloak cap was protecting me from the snowfall that was falling heavily.

It was deep into the night, with the snowfall persisting. The accumulating snow on the pathways deepened, sometimes revealing faint tire impressions from those returning home. The delicate snowflakes fell in no particular direction, scattered and gentle, looking the same wherever they landed—pure and pristine white.