Thaw

Jack stood and turned towards his closet. His dorm room, so graciously provided by Pen State was no bigger than a jail cell and at times it even managed to achieve a jail cell’s cold lonely atmosphere as well. Stepping in front of his full length mirror, another amenity courtesy of Pen, he traced his fingers over the bumps and scratches from decades of use before settling his eyes on his own reflection. Brown eyes stared back at him haloed in olive skin and sunken behind brown hair that had fallen in front of them. His thin frame adjusted in the mirror and following as he reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Inside rested a backpack filled to the brim with clothing, canned food, and other assorted survival equipment.

“Well, I guess that’s that, I just need to… go” He said aloud as if the bag, bursting at the seams, might respond and object to the idea. As if by some miracle the bag would suddenly pop to life and sing a jaunty song to convince him to stay. It would tell him that it didn’t matter what he had promised to Sam, he was dead anyway. It’s not like he would be upset if Jack didn’t go. But the bag remained, sitting silently unchanged and unmoving.

Jack paused. Sam, that name had been floating behind his thoughts for some time but not until now did it move into the foreground. Sam had been Jacks roommate for the last five years. That was until about a month ago. Sam and Jack had bonded over a shared love of mythologies and astronomy. They had been fast friends and in those five years become brothers. All of that came to a sudden halt around a month ago when Sam, stumbling drunk, had fallen right in front of a greyhound bus. He had died in an instant and without much pain. It was as if a star had been taken from the sky, quietly and secretly, with only the few sullen, over worked astronomers to notice.

Two weeks later Jack found himself shivering, even despite the 4 different layers of clothing the bitter wind bit into him. It seemed as if the wind was attempting to remove his skin like some great hunter skinning his newly caught prey. Jack quickly shook the image of himself being skinned alive and mounted on the wall of a cabin as a trophy out of his head. He had been walking for about 15 minutes towards the starting point of the trek. He had been instructed, through the booking, to receive a map from a lock box at the start of the path.

As the small lonely wooden box peaked into his vison Jack picked up the pace. The box, wooden and painted in a garishly bright hunter’s orange, stood open. Completely open, baring it’s inside to the world without apology. Around it lay several maps, most looked unremarkable. The same consumer grade lamination and printing with creases. Some cracking even enough to allow for the melted snow to seep into their fibers. One map however lay atop the box, unmarred. It looked as if the very forest itself had kept it from being disturbed. No snow alighted upon it, though as far as Jack could see the thick miasma of fresh white powder stretched in every direction unfettered.

After gathering the scattered plastic maps Jack set them inside the box. He then turned his attention to the seemingly defiant one sitting atop the box. He could feel it, deep in his bones he could feel it. A pulling. A drawing sensation from every pore on his skin. A lustful yearning from the map to be opened and read. Jack’s hand shook slightly from the cold as he took the map into his grasp. He genteelly unfolded it and began to study its details. It was much like any map of the area he had seen before stay for one item. A town. Small in size but unmissable due to the bright red ink that formed a perfect circle around it. It had its name printed in an old sweeping font: Gossamer. The impossibility of this town caused Jacks eyebrows to knit themselves at sharp angles. ‘That’s strange’ He thought ‘A town just off the path, maybe it’s just an old town hikers use as a rest stop’ He assured himself as he refolded the map and placed it neatly in his pack. He had none the less made a mental note to stop their once he had reached that point in the trail.

The lake Jack emerged to after a week of walking was small by most standards. Only several hundred yards across at its widest. Its surface covered with ice that always seemed to perfectly reflect the sun into his eyes. Across the lake, as real as the ground under his feet stood a town. From where he was standing he could only make out faint details but it was without a doubt a town. Small specs of brightly colored fabric moved back and forth from building to building like ants retrieving food for their queen. Gossamer was not only real but it was alive just across this lake.

“Well I don’t suppose a gentleman such as yourself is from around here are you?” A voice rung out from behind him causing his muscles to tense. Jack spun around and was shocked at what he saw. Before him was a woman, her skin smooth and fair like porcelain. Her dark green eyes locked firmly on Jack. She had a mess of red hair pulled back tightly into a bun. That however all melted from Jack’s attention at the sight of her clothes. She wore a long dress that billowed outward, soft green hues matched the color of her eyes and a fur coat of ash and auburn hung against her shoulders caressed gingerly by several fallen locks of hair.

“Not particularly” Jack responded after first regaining his composure. “What is this place I’ve only ever seen it on this map” Jack continued turning the map towards this mystery woman. Her eyes grew large and her lips parted regarding the map much like one starving would regard a thick steak. “A map…” She spoke, unconsciously stepping forward, her hand drifting upward and traced the roads and routs as if trying to commit them all to memory. After a moment of awkwardly acting as an easel Jack spoke. “Is everything alright, it’s just a map, I’m sure there are a ton like it in town.” He said nodding towards the bustling mass of fabric ants. “None to speak of I’m quite afraid but please before I say more I must ask of you a favor.” She began. Jack raised an eyebrow but nodded “Sure.” “I have lived in this town for fifty years. I know my appearance would indicate otherwise but I will explain that in good time. For now, I would very much like to leave this town with you if you would permit me to travel alongside you.” she finished and stopped expressing a knowing patience. After that bombardment of information Jack needed to take a moment to process. He looked up, the icicles far above appeared as crystaline stalactites, possibly part of some elaborate trap set up by whoever had left that map, at any moment one of these frozen daggers would fall and end his connection to this mortal plane.

He matched gaze with her once more “So you are fifty… somehow and when I leave you want to travel with me.” He summarized. “That is correct, would you be inclined to accomidate me?” Jack looked into her eyes. Looking for some glimmer of falsity, some tell that he could find to allow himself to slap his hand to his forehead and proclaim he had been made a fool of. Try as he might he saw none. Instead what emanated from her was an intelligent ferocity. The look of a person trapped in a cage. A cage of which she knew every facet of, every nook, cranny, bolt, lock, and latch but also lacked the means in which to escape it.

“Why do you need my help? I mean it can’t be that hard to just leave town right?” Jack mused. “While technically correct, leaving the town is not the issue. The issue lies with what happens once one does leave.” The woman looked around and, spying a fallen log, brushed it off and took a seat. “Please, sit” She motioned to the spot next to her. Jack followed suit and took his place aside her. “My name is Laila Clefton, I figure I have imposed rudeness long enough.” She gave a light curtsy and Jack responded with an awkward bow. “Jack” he replied and followed suit. “I live here in Gossamer.” She gestured to the town “As previously stated I have lived here for fifty long years…” “but you barely look 25” Jack interjected, still studying her soft features for any signs of extended age but once again none were found. “This is true and quite kind of you to say” She continued with a light chuckle. “This town as I am sure you can tell is different from how I assume most other places exist. Every year around this time, this lake begins a rapid freeze. Over the course of three days this lake will turn into a solid block of ice. Along with it as will the people of Gossamer. We remain in this state until the next Spring when the lake beings to thaw.”

Jacks mind was racing, he now more than ever was begging, pleading with the universe that this was some kind of elaborate joke. Some form of group ruse, carefully planned and orchestrated. At any moment Sam would hop from behind a nearby tree and say “Gotcha bud! Should ‘a seen the look on your face!” And they would all laugh until their stomach’s hurt. The punchline however never arrived. “So, every year for about half the year, your entire town freezes… Why? Do you have any idea what causes it? And putting all of that aside. Why does anyone stay here?! That sounds like a nightmare.” Jack was beginning to breath heavily, his hot exhales filled the air with clouds of white.

Laila rested her hand on Jack’s arm. The pleasant notes of lilac and rose perfume tugged at his nose forcing it to recall the memory of accidentally spraying his grandmothers perfume directly into his face. Laila’s voice brought his attention back to her. “I apologize for any panic I have caused. We know not why we freeze with the lake. It is as it has always been. Perhaps the ones who came before knew but they never saw fit to tell. We stay because we always have and because of my father Zachariah Clefton.” She said the name like it had been a foul word, one that coats your tongue with a thick grim and sends a quiver of disgust down your limbs. “He claims the lake to be a sign of divine providence. An extended life to be treasured and lived by his teachings. I was a devout follower, for a time… But I know there is more to this world and I will be blind to it no longer.” In that moment Jack knew what pushed him here. What other worldly force left the map on that box and had drawn him here. It was Laila’s spirit, or at least one like it. One that Jack had known before. One that would match hers if he had still been able to be present.

Jacks mind having been peppered with doubt, riddled with confusion, and shifting shapeless in a void of uncertainty all at once clerified. One idea, one thought, one goal. He would help Laila escape. He would help her to free herself from her bonds. Beause it is what Sam would have done.