On the Wings of Ice

Early in the morning, in the middle of the night, I rose from my nice warm bed to pee and to check the fire. Trying not to wake my wife, Belinda, I slipped into my robe and slippers and padded down the hall to the bathroom. With my trusty rat terrier, Zipper, prancing beside me, I stoked the fire in the den and then headed to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. As I stood over the farmhouse sink, staring out the bay window I saw a sight that had me questioning my sanity.

Pinching myself, thinking I must still be asleep, I leaned over the sink, closer to the window. Shaking my head, I rubbed my eyes, sure my mind was playing tricks on me. Slapping myself in the face, I looked back out the window to see if what I saw was still there. I groaned as the scene before me settled into view.

I could see a fresh layer of crystal-looking ice that hadn’t been there before Belinda and I had retired for the night, covering the back garden. Grass blades were frozen stiff and branches had a slick glaze. Everything was completely iced over and getting thicker as I watched. The spreading ice wasn’t what had me wondering if my reason had fled, though.

As I stood at the window, and watched the ice form, I saw something flitting about the yard. Straining my eyes, I tried to concentrate on what I saw, for flying from branch to grass blade and chair to dog house, was a little fairy whose skin and wings appeared to be entirely of ice crystals.

Taken by surprise, I found myself outside, standing on the back porch in my robe and slippers, watching the winged pixie with fascination. Fluttering around, wherever she landed she would leave behind an ice trail. She alighted on the rail before me, and I reached my hand slowly out towards her. Smiling to set her at ease, I motioned for her to land on my hand so that I could get a better look.

She looked at me, smiled, and coyly batted her lashes. Ducking her head shyly down, she fluttered her wings a little. She shuffled her feet, this little ice fairy, and backed away from me. I thought she would fly away, but launched herself at me instead. Landing on my outstretched hand, she smiled even larger, showing off her pointy teeth. Touching my fingers with her hand she leaned down and bit my finger before flying quickly away.

This all happened in the space of seconds. I didn’t even have the chance to holler out. Looking down at my finger, I was shocked to see a gaping wound where her teeth had sunk in, but there was no blood. Instead of blood, my finger was beginning to turn black and cold. Black as frostbite.

I quickly went inside to run my hand underwater, hoping to warm it back up and prevent infection. Turning the faucet on, I started scrubbing my hand but stopped when I saw that my hand to my wrist was black. Grabbing the hand towel, to dry my hand, I almost stroked out. My arm was completely black almost to the elbow.

I holler out Belinda’s name. Zipper began to bark like crazy. I heard my wife move around in the bedroom and start down the hall. I whimper as I watch black lines begin to shoot up my bicep. I’m freaked out at this point. I knew the arm was dead and lost.

Now, I sit in a circle with you, one-armed, and retelling my tale. I can see by the looks on your faces that you do not believe, any more than my wife or the doctors did, that you too doubt my sanity. But I swear to you, what I have told you is the truth. She flew away on the wings of ice.