Black Ice

A Mute Winter Morning – Flash Fiction #20

Photo by Alexander Ipfelkofer

Fresh snow had fallen overnight and blanketed everything with a thick, muted layer of white, so much so that the cars looked like little mounds. It was the first snow of the year, the town had come to a standstill, and there was no way I would miss out on flying downhill all day. I quickly put on my berry red wool coat, jumped into my boots, pulled my hat over the curly mess of hair, grabbed my mittens, and hurried down to the basement to get my trusted sledge.

“Where you off to, young lady?”

“Sledging, Mum. Down to the pond.”

“Not too long, Dee. Back for lunch, you hear?”

“Yaaa, Mum.”

“And be careful!”

I was already out the door, racing down the street, holding fast to the steering handles. Few people were out. It was too early for Sunday shoppers, and those heading for church, wading through knee-deep snow, were waving at me, cheering me on as I sped by. The sky was blue, the sun was kissing my cold cheeks, and the air was crisp and laden with the promise of more snow.

Timmy said to meet at the pond. He had mentioned a surprise. I knew it was his Labrador puppy, but I played along. It was the best gift, unless you’re allergic, like me. Didn’t matter. A bit of itching was a price I’d happily pay.

There was a commotion at the pond. Stopping, I stepped off the sledge, pulling it behind me with the satisfying crunch of soft snow under my feet. The pond was at the heart of the village, and when it was frozen over, as was the case now, you would see kids ice skating and Emil sitting under the bridge like a troll – we call him Fish because he was always fishing, never catching anything.

Today, there was no Fish, no one was skating, and the rowboat, usually tied to the bank next to the weathered wooden bridge, was stuck fast in the middle. On it, a puppy, yapping away, gnawing at the rigid leash trapped in the ice.

I felt the urge to run, but my knees were shaking, my tummy was in knots, and my heart was racing. Why is no one helping the puppy? Scanning for the pet owner, I could spot no one among the sparse crowd of onlookers who would fit the bill.

“Elodie,” a voice called with a hushed cry.

It was Annabel. She was with Louise and Cedric, their skating boots scattered on the ground. Their hands and heads, jerking, pointing at something, their eyes wide, their mouths open, lips trembling in silence, as if to say: We dare not speak; we have no words.

Smashed onto the dark patch of black ice under the bridge, shards of broken icicles drew my gaze, luring me along a cracked ridge in the ice. My eyes fell on the leash underneath leading up to the boat, and at the end, a pale, faded hand.

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A Surprise Ending?

This week’s flash fiction (500 words) is something I wrote some time ago and considered submitting to magazines. Then again, why not publish it here?

It’s a quick read. I hope you like it. There’s a larger story to be told, which we’ll keep for another time.

Did the ending surprise you? The title Black Ice gave it away?

Also, Black ICE¹ is a term William Gibson used in Neuromancer, a coincidence, as is the Mute Winter subtitle. Completely coincidental.

Black Ice was a seed for a larger story, a series of stories with Elodie as main character, one might call it her Origin Story.

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If the dark side is what you seek, you may like Mother Insists, a mini-series about facing your demons.

Mother Insists

Audio Added

If you prefer the silly banter of The Green Bunch, they now come with newly recorded audio, live from your local supermarket. Very green bunchy audio, it’s quite bananas, but see, I mean, hear for yourself.

The Green Bunch

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1. Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics (ICE) is a term used in cyberpunk literature to refer to security programs which protect computerized data from being accessed by hackers. (Wikipedia)