White Night

A short short story

A quick note:

This story is being submitted for The Soaring Twenties Social Club Symposium. The topic is fiction.

White Night - 350 words of flash fiction

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

Mack knew the odds of victory were slim. Crouching in his icy fort pinned down by the enemy’s ceaseless barrage was enough to make him question the choices he had made leading up to what seemed to be the end. 

Heavy booms echoed through the walls of his shelter. The cold creeping around his neck was left bare by the sneaky efforts of tiny troops across enemy lines.

Mack was alone and time was not on his side.  

His opponent’s forces had grown in sizable numbers since the first battle raged a few years ago, but he never wavered. His naked hands were red and raw, but his spirit felt strong. No turning back. 

Mack dug up the soft, white ground below him and crafted his weapons. He would make his last stand here and now. 

The bombardment stopped. He crawled his way to the outside world, the frozen tundra of his backyard. 

His fortress nearly melted away and the army of icemen cut down to stumps of snow. 

There was no one in sight. Just him alone in the snowy night. He looked up at the dark sky; illuminated by the stars above. Around him were the glowing yellow lights of nearby houses and trees covered in white powder. 

That’s when he saw them emerging from the great banks ahead. 

Four children. All armed. 

Their lips pulled back as they screamed into the night. Their battle cry. 

Mack dropped everything and waved his arms high in the air, hoping his plea for a truce would be enough to cease the impending onslaught.
The children stopped but only for a moment. Then each gave a devilish grin and proceeded to pummel him.

His face caught a ball and he dropped to his knees, embracing his fate. 

The children piled on top and wrestled him to the ground. 

A song of laughter and cheer carried the neighborhood. Mack stood up dusting the snow off him as best he could. 

“We beat you!” said the little troops. 

Mack smiled. The defeat didn’t sting. 

All’s fair in love and snowballs.