Photo - Mill Creek Watershed 1949. Public domain photo by Helmut Buechner (via Flash! Friday Vol 2-18)
It is blinding; the light around her. Brilliant white cushioning she struggles through, clogging her feet. Kate knows she must be there. Somewhere. The reason is buried deep beneath the sludge. She may find it before the end.
They call her home. She hears them, in the distance; knows she has strayed from her path. Distracted by crystal facets; the graupel reflective of the world she knows A myriad spectrum filling her vision – symmetry she must battle through. She is late. She knows it. They tell her, in whispers.
Kate is saturated by it. Precipitation clings to her; weighting her down. Snow seeking to weld her to the floor; molecules attempting supercooling anew. She must not form their nucleus. Must break through the intricate barrier. Beyond.
They need her. Want her. Her name. Her summons. She longs to answer.
The clusters break momentarily. Kate strikes forth; wanderer with purpose. Compass set. Their love her guide. Belatedly safe from threatening storm.
Did a bit of research for this one on snowflakes to keep the terminology (hopefully!) accurate. Whilst it's deliberately a little ambiguous, I'd envisaged a scenario involving a bed ridden patient (whether by coma, illness or close to death, is subject to your own interpretation or spin on things) being talked to by her family. In this instance, she hears their voices...
The photo prompt is shown above. The word prompt involved a missed appointment. I interpreted that obliquely in my reference to Kate as being "late" in her return to consciousness.