Judgement

It's a relentlessly cold morning with temperatures below freezing. Silence breaks with each step strategically placed. A resounding crunch echoes over the frozen pond though all else is quiet. Nary an animal's in sight. Even the birds have not dared to venture forth so early.

Greta thinks she must be mad, crossing the icy pond under such conditions. There is no other choice, however, save allowing a life's demise. The pond's been frozen for more than a month, making her weekly trek a bit easier. She shouldn't risk it but considering all that's to be accomplished in a given day, taking the route has proven an advantage worth the wager.

Greta glances up, watching illustrious clouds drift across dark skies. Delicate snowflakes have begun falling in succession. She is struck by the contrast betwixt intricately laced snowflakes and despairingly shadowed skies. The thought takes root, lurching to the pit of her stomach. A foreboding of things yet to come? Despite wearing boots and heavy layers, Greta shivers. Will the darkness of winter ever give way to spring? She'll dance merrily when she first witnesses a new bud of spring. This winter has run too long.

Greta spies Grandma Agata's house in the distance, just before the heavy coppice of trees. The trees' branches, along with the house's roof, are already laden with snowfall. She sighs with relief, spotting spirals of smoke escape the chimney. Thankfully, Grandma Agatha won't freeze for there is an abundance of logs within easy reach.

Today, Greta's basket carries loaves of freshly baked bread, red and juicy apples, cheese, and carrots as well as cabbage from the winter garden. Greta's made the treacherous trip weekly since mid-fall to ensure Grandma Agatha lacks for nothing. The old woman starving isn't a risk she's willing to take, especially when no other offers her assistance. The old woman did live a promiscuous life - and certainly not one up to the villager's standards - so in older years, she is paying steeply. Greta's conscience, however, dictates she help the woman. Judgement is God's alone to make.

Reaching the pond's center, a noise resounds in the eerie silence. Panicked, adrenalin pumping, Greta begins to run until she slips, falling less than ten feet away. Spread eagle, she watches an apple roll across the ice, its redness much like blood against the backdrop of newly fallen snow.

The crack expands and cold water invades. Greta bobs in the frigid water, gasping though struggling for only a moment before acceptance registers. No one hears a sound save the startled birds, their wings flapping against air. The sound fills Greta's ears.

Calming numbness floods, slowly surrounds. Hands, fingers already frozen, slip across the ice. Irony strikes swift and hard as confusion mounts. Warmth infuses and peace encompasses. Has spring arrived?

A single leaf falls on the snow, a whisper of a selfless prayer:

"Please don't let Grandma Agatha starve."