Snowflake (3 page)

At first, Snowflake felt very sad, for she could not think why this had happened to her.

Always her thoughts came back to why, and what was the purpose of it all? Why had He who had taken such care in the beautiful design He had made for her high up in a cloud let her be squeezed all out of shape to be the nose of a snowman?

Why, indeed, had He made her a snowflake instead of a little girl with blue eyes, flaxen pigtails, red mittens and lunch in a paper bag? What fun it must be to ride downhill on a sled, go to school and have friends.

But soon Snowflake became more cheerful, for everybody who passed the snowman on the hill stopped and either smiled or laughed at the nose which was so exactly like that of the schoolmaster, even to the drop of water hanging from the end of it.

And Snowflake felt comforted. It seemed to be good for people to laugh and be happy. Perhaps it was for this that she had been created and sent to earth. Whenever someone came by she waited eagerly for the laughter to begin.

Then came a day that was not at all like the others had been. To begin with it was quiet and solemn. The children did not come to the school. No one did any work. Even the barnyard animals seemed to make less noise. Only the bells from the belfry of the church steeple that was shaped like an onion rang out loudly and clearly and with a new kind of authority.

Thereupon Snowflake saw a most wonderful sight. All the people of the village appeared in the square below by the church, dressed up in their best clothes. The women wore long skirts with many petticoats beneath and had their hair done up in braids. All the men were clad in black suits with buttons of silver or horn on the coats and many of them had fine gold or silver watchchains. They wore round black hats with green bands and a
gamsbart
like a small brush sticking up behind.

The children too had on their best ski suits and prettiest frocks, and all the little girls had gay ribbons and bows tied into the straw-coloured plaits of their hair.

Everyone was washed and scrubbed and shined and primped. They all stood in little knots in the square before the church as though they were waiting for something. Snowflake wondered what it could be.

She was soon to find out. For now occurred an even more exciting and wonderful thing.

Down the side of the mountain, on every path and slope, as far as the eye could see, little black dots appeared. They were moving and growing larger and Snowflake saw that there were whole families on sleds, fathers, mothers and children. They were all the people who lived on the farms high up above the village and who were now coasting down to church.

And they too were dressed in their best clothes, for this was Sunday. The dark suits showed up bravely against the white snow. The coloured ribbons of the girls stood out like pennants. Converging from all directions they came whizzing down the hill to land in the square, amidst laughter and greetings. When the last family had arrived, they all went inside the church, leaving the square quite empty.

Then Snowflake heard the music of the organ and the sound of the voices of young and old lifted in song. And as she listened, she felt that her heart was deeply touched, though she did not know why.

Afterwards, when the service was over and the people went home, the sky clouded over and it grew colder. An old gentleman in a black frock coat and carrying a big stick walked by the snowman and paused to look. He had a long nose and angry eyes. He did not laugh as the others had. It was Herr Hüschl, the schoolteacher himself.

No, Herr Hüschl did not laugh at all. Instead he became red in the face and very angry, especially when he compared the nose of the snowman with his own and saw that they were exactly the same even to the drop of water at the end of it.

He gave a cry of rage, raised his stick and began to beat the snowman until it was broken into pieces and lay scattered on the snow on the hillside.

But he was not content with this. He sought out what was left of the head of the snowman that contained his long nose and with a loud shout of “So!” he ground the offending piece beneath the heel of his muddy boot until there was no longer even the smallest bit of it left to suggest the length or shape of his nose.

Or, until there was very little left of Snowflake, either.

“Help!” she called out. “Won’t someone help me?

But there was no answer and she lay there, broken, dirtied, heavy-hearted and full of pain, listening to Herr Hüschl stumping off still mumbling angrily to himself. And a short while later, it began to snow again.

The new snowstorm lasted all day and all night, and when it was over, Snowflake was buried under many feet of the new fall.

It was quite dark and she could no longer see anything.

But although she could not see, she could still hear, and, listening, she tried to guess the things that were happening above her.

Snowflake knew, for instance, that the peasant must be driving the grey cow home to milk, for she heard her soft moo, and the gentle tinkling of the square bell around her neck.

Thus she strained eagerly for all the well-known sounds that told her that even while she lay buried and forgotten, life in the village was going on. She heard the church clock strike the hours and the bells ring out to come to service. There were the sounds of wood being sawed, nails being hammered and roosters crowing.

Dogs barked, cats meowed. There were footsteps and people hailed one another with
“Gruess Gott!
” as they passed. She even thought that once she heard the laughter of the little girl with the red cap and mittens, and it made her sad with longing for her, for she felt that she might never see her again.

Thus began a new life for Snowflake, and it was not a happy one. Each time there was a fresh storm, or the rain fell and turned the surface to a hard crust of ice, it grew deeper and darker where she lay.

Soon even the sounds barely came through to her, and when they did, they were muffled so that she could hardly make them out. Often it was difficult to tell whether it was the church bells calling to mass, or the hammer of the metal-smith; whether it was the merry cries and shouts of the school children or the gabble of the chickens, whether it was the lowing of the grey cow or the whistle of the railway train running along the river far away in the valley below.

But what made Snowflake the saddest, sadder even than missing the gay children, or the sight of the sunrise and the sunset and the feel of the crisp cool air against her cheek, or losing her beautiful shape and having to lie there in the dark, muddied and soiled, was the thought that she had been abandoned by the One who had created her and whose love had made her feel so happy and secure in the cradle of the wind when first she was born.

Buried there, Snowflake thought that surely this could not be the end, that she had been born only to see a sunrise, hear a little girl laugh, and become the nose on a snowman.

When she remembered the care with which she had been made and the love she had felt she knew that it could not be so but only perhaps that she had been forgotten. One who could create so many stars in the sky, who could think of a church with a steeple like an onion, who could put together a grey cow with soft eyes and people a whole village, must be very busy.

And so she decided that she would speak to Him and ask Him to help her. And when she had thought this it seemed to her as if He were there, close to her and listening.

She said: “Dear One who made me, have you forgotten me? I am lonely and afraid. Please help me. Take me out of the darkness and let me see the light once more.”

And having asked that, she added timidly, “I love you.”

As soon as she had said that she no longer felt so lonely but happy and excited instead as though perhaps something wonderful might be about to happen to her.