Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #310

Whispers of the Snowbear

In the stillness of a vast, snow-covered forest, where the trees stood like silent sentinels, a bear sat serenely amidst the glittering white expanse. The world was hushed, save for the soft whispers of the wind sweeping through the branches, scattering a dusting of snow in delicate swirls.

The bear, though enormous and powerful, seemed strangely gentle, an odd contrast to its size and strength. With fur thick and heavy like the winter itself, it cradled an elegant harp in its large, bear-sized paws. The harp was delicate, with finely carved wooden legs and strings that shimmered under the pale, icy light of the sun. It looked fragile in the bear’s grasp, yet there was a quiet reverence in the way it was held.

The bear’s face remained hidden, obscured by the tall curve of the harp’s top, as it bent its head slightly, eyes soft and focused. Its large claws, capable of rending through forest branches and crushing stones, now moved with surprising grace over the strings. A haunting melody filled the air, echoing through the trees. The notes rose and fell, cascading in harmony with the wind, weaving a sound that seemed to bring the snowflakes themselves to dance in mid-air.

As the music unfolded, the world around the bear seemed to hold its breath. The wind paused, the snowflakes stilled in the sky, and even the forest seemed to lean in closer, as if listening. The bear’s gentle plucking of the strings was a mystery to all who might happen upon it. How did a creature such as this come to know such a delicate, beautiful song?

There was no answer, only the music. The forest embraced it, its branches swaying ever so slightly to the rhythm, and the snow below sparkled like diamonds, mirroring the glistening strings. In that moment, the bear became one with the winter—a guardian of silence, of beauty, and of melody. And though its face was hidden from view, the world knew that it was no longer just a bear; it was something far more ethereal, a being of the wild who had learned the art of music, a keeper of secrets, speaking not with words, but with the song of the snow.

And so it played, a solitary figure in the snow, a bear who could speak to the soul through the strings of a harp, where the music lingered in the frozen air long after the bear had disappeared back into the depths of the forest.

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Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #310

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie Fluharty