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Field of Snow - Prompt 8

The seemingly empty field expanded before the farmer's eyes. As the sun peaked over the dawn, he bent his aging back and placed his hand on the snow. Cold flakes danced his fingers and arm, a small smile coming to his sun-chapped lips. Just below the surface of the snow, his hand touched something warm. Raising his hand in the sky, the farm laughed as rainbow colors danced along his hand.


"The Fairies return to the field, as they do every year." Even in his old age, the man danced with the colors as they started to melt the snow.

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