Find out if the groundhog had seen or hadn’t seen his shadow. Use that to write your character into a short story. Make it funny, make it emotional, make it any way you want.
The groundhog saw his shadow, so that meant 6 more weeks of winter.
For this exercise, I made a new character. Well, this character had been around for eons, but I wanted to use him, anyway. I am using Death. I’ve wanted to write a short story using Death, so we shall see what happens to Death in my short story.
Death rolled over in his bed and slammed his pale white hand against the screaming alarm. He opened his empty eye sockets and stare at the black walls of his room. Death shoved his blood red blanket off and stood up, groaning. He walked over to his closet and pushed it open. He tapped his finger against his round chin.
“What to wear?” He ran his hand over his long sleeve shirts. Death’s hand stopped on a deep forest green shirt and pulled it off the hanger. “Perfect!”
He slipped it on, buttoned it, and he grabbed a nice pair of black slacks. Once dressed, he pulled on black socks, slipped on some black shoes, and headed for the kitchen to find something to eat.
Death had gotten up early because he had to join the humans for his least favorite day, Groundhog Day. He wanted the day to be over with because depending on if the groundhog sees his shadow, Death wouldn’t be able to take lives that day. If the groundhog doesn’t see his shadow, then it’ll be a normal day. But if the groundhog saw his shadow and predicted six more weeks of winter, the Death wasn’t allowed to let anyone die. He had to go out and keep those who were slotted for death alive for the entire day.
He sipped on his soul filled orange juice, enjoying the bitterness of each drop. He read the obituaries while he munched on some dry toast, smiling when he read about the people’s deaths. Death glanced at his watch and jumped out of his chair. He had to hurry if he was going to get there before the groundhog came out of its hole.
Death rushed out to his black mustang, placed a hat on his bald head and sunglasses over his eye sockets. After driving for an hour, he pulled into the parking lot. Death parked and pulled the hat down more as he slinked over to a group of humans to blend in. He stood unbothered in the cold, but he shivered to make it seem like he was, so the surrounding humans suspected nothing.
Finally, the time came, and he held the breath he didn’t have in his lungs while he waited for someone to speak up.
“We have our prediction. Our furry friend has seen his shadow, so there are six more weeks of winter,” the voice bellowed out over everyone still chattering.
Death stomped his foot and cursed out loud. Not caring that others heard and were not staring at him, he stomped his foot. Death headed back to his mustang, still cussing. He climbed in behind the steering wheel and threw a tantrum, knowing that the humans around here were watching. Death started his car and sped off to keep those he had slated to take souls from alive.