christmas 1959 and the road is pure white
the mother drives slowly through the storm
two kids in the back are bored and need to go
so she stops
the perfect place a wide meadow five feet down
strange trees under their heavy cover
the mother sniffs the air — seems all right
the kids get out
five minutes later a snowball hits mom
she laughs and teaches them the lesson
this mom was the snowball queen of 1948
rapid fire revenge
they tumble back into the back seat
mom starts the car but the road is gone
not just the snow but trees all around
what has happened
mom gets out to scout for the tracks
but there are none and while she’s turned
the car is gone and she screams
more trees
she searches in circles and thinks hard
the meadow has disappeared to forest
dead silence into the distance
more trees
special places still hide everywhere
the thrumming little waves never forget
realtimes catch a glimpse — there, a shadow!
nothing else

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