February, Not Yet March

I haven’t seen anyone trapped under the ice today. For this I am grateful. The dim midwinter light filters in through the window, reluctant and winsome as I return from my daily stroll through the woods, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Fear shoots through my limbs as I ponder the plight of those in the ice, frozen until their rescue. Perhaps I have only imagined them and their presence, perhaps I will find them roaring back to life once the calendar sheds another month.

Their situation was hideous as blue hands pounded the ice from the underside and I was obliged to go inside their world. It makes me hot and cold all at once, but I know that whatever comes, I will be given what I need to complete the task.

I stare to the ceiling, and see only a whisper of snow gliding past the ghostly windows. It is not yet time. I close my eyes and descend into the fevered dream once more.

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