The Hut across the Frozen Pond

Anthony White let his gaze rest upon the frozen surface of the pond before him. He was uncomfortably aware of the hushed voices coming from the dozens of young boys standing behind him at the southernmost edge of the irregularly shaped pool of ice. His friends were amongst them, he knew, holding up hand-written signs of support while occasionally calling out, “You can do it!” and “We believe in you!” However, Anthony was sure that the vast majority of the boys were hoping to see him fail his mission, giving them the ability to brag about having seen the infamous pond swallow a child whole. He supposed there might be a few kids who wanted to see him succeed, if only to find out whether the old hut across the water really was magical or not, but they were probably the ones who still had yet to be disillusioned about the existence of the Tooth Fairy.

Taking in a cold, steadying breath, Anthony shifted his focus to the modest, red-roofed wooden structure on the opposite side of the pond, about 60 yards away. The hut, along with the pond itself, was backed into a hollow section of the mountain, with high, vertical stony walls that made it almost impossible to approach the hut except for via the body of water. The building was formally named the Amberson Hut after the family that owned it, but was more colloquially known as the House of Wishes. It was there that Anthony hoped to receive the one thing his heart truly desired above everything else: the return of his brother Scott.

According to the legend, the House of Wishes had occupied that space for longer than anyone could remember. Even the Amberson family wasn’t sure who had built the hut, or when and how it came to be passed down to their ancestors. During warmer months, the Ambersons were easily able to access the hut by boat and see to the property’s upkeep. A couple of them would even spend a few nights there, enjoying the serene solitude of the place. The family noted that there was nothing special about the place other than its reputation, but that did nothing to quell the superstitions surrounding the hut and its pond.

It was said that the pond was unusually deep for its size; some of the more extreme speculations put it as deep enough to submerge an entire skyscraper. As Anthony had heard it, no one had ever been able to retrieve anything once it had sunk into the pond. Even human bodies, once taken into the water’s depths, never returned to the surface. Every now and then, someone not related to the Ambersons would try rowing out to the hut in order to satisfy his own curiosity about the place, only to give up after a few yards because of an intense feeling of dread and the suddenly real possibility of sinking into the eternal murky, watery grave. Fishing could be pretty good there, but most locals chose to fish in less dangerous locations.

Most of the time, it was said, the House of Wishes really was just a simple hut attached to a haunted pool of water. However, some desperate man had long ago discovered that the hut would gain the power to grant a person’s deepest wish under two conditions: the pond must be completely frozen over by the 30th of December, and the pond must be crossed by foot to get to the hut before the first day of the new year. It was said that this man had made the discovery after having gotten himself lost in the middle of freak snow storm. Looking for a way to shelter himself away from the frosty elements, he had spotted the red roof of the little hut. Knowing nothing about the curious nature of the pond, he ventured across its frozen surface without fear and entered the small building. This, as it was told, was where he was granted his greatest wish, which led to the establishment of the town that Anthony called home.

Throughout the generations, many had tried to cross the ice in the hopes of having their greatest wish granted, only to have the pond’s solid shell crack beneath them and plunge them into the deadly waters. Supposedly, the only known success stories involved 12-year-old boys, which was why it became a tradition for that age group to take up the challenge. Even though the pond so rarely froze over by the requisite date that sometimes decades passed before the right conditions were met, every year a single 12-year-old boy was chosen to represent his cohorts at the pond for this rite of passage. Usually, this was a symbolic position and the chosen “wish walker” would preside over a massive snowball fight held amongst the town’s youth near the pond.

Anthony, this year’s wish walker by choice rather than by chance, took a step forward and placed his cleated right foot onto the pond’s surface. The whispers and occasional shouts coming from behind him suddenly went silent. Not even the sounds of respiration could be heard as the boys seemed to be holding their breath with anticipation. Anthony kept his own breathing steady as he set his left foot ahead of the right. With grim determination, he balled his sweaty fists within his green, woolen mittens, stiffened his jaw the way he’d always seen his dad do before handling a difficult task, and then proceeded to walk at a slow and careful pace across the ice. He wondered briefly if he had been stupid to volunteer himself for what was essentially a suicide mission, but then remembered the promise he’d made to his brother. This, he thought, was the right thing to do.

Of course, most of his classmates disagreed. Most notoriously, Ben Archer, the fittest of all the preteen boys in town, had mocked Anthony’s decision throughout the fall, referring to him as the “death wish walker.” Although all the boys in his age group presented themselves as willing if chosen, nobody actually wanted to walk the ice in the event that the pond froze over in time. When he had volunteered himself at the start of the school year, the other kids had called him crazy and had accused him of being a baby for believing that a simple hut could grant him a wish. Naturally, nobody objected to him taking on the role of wish walker if he so desired, and much of the bite was taken out of the Autumn games that usually decided who would walk the pond. The wish walker was always the boy who scored the least amount of points overall. Ben Archer had never been at risk.

“Hey, death wish walker! Down here!” Ben’s voice seemed to come from below Anthony’s feet. Despite the impossibility of Ben trying to get his attention from under the ice, Anthony looked down. He came to an abrupt halt as he saw the specter of a drowned man floating just beneath the frozen surface. The ghost’s sightless eyes bore into him as he spoke again, this time using what was presumably his own voice. “If death is your wish, come let me show you the way.” The man held out his hands, opening his arms as though ready to catch something from above.

Anthony felt hot panic rising into his throat and, just beyond the sounds of his quickened heartbeat pounding in his ears, he heard the distinct sounds of ice cracking beneath the weight of his feet. The urge to turn and run back to safety almost took over his body, even though he knew that he would never make it. He could now see a crack forming on the ice along the side of his left foot, which looked just as ominous as the dead man’s grin. His breaths were coming in short gasps now and he felt on the verge of fainting.

“Yo, bro!” shouted a voice from up ahead. Anthony was shocked and relieved to see his brother Scott waving to him from the front of the hut. His fragile body was clothed in nothing but a hospital gown, but he looked feverish nonetheless. “All you gotta do is put one foot in front of the other, remember?”

Anthony did remember. He recalled those days so long ago when he and Scott used to pretend to walk the pond together, while he was helping his big brother with physical therapy. This was back when Scott’s health had seemed to be rallying and everyone had thought he would be okay, before things took a turn for the worst and Scott ended up being sent away to a “place of rest.” Scott had thought that he would become well enough that he would be included in the upcoming year’s Autumn games, but not well enough to win many points. As such, he had thought it would be prudent to practice pond walking ahead of time.

Anthony remembered how he and his brother would try to imagine the grandest wish possible each night before bed, which they would then focus on during their “pond walk” the following day. They had dreamed big in those days, going far beyond wealth and love and long life. They had wanted super powers and galactic battles and resurrected dinosaurs. The list had gone on forever, but now none of that mattered. Looking at his brother across the pond, Anthony could hardly believe that he had ever thought there was anything more important than the reason he needed to reach the hut today.

Keeping his eyes on Scott, Anthony set his jaw firm once again and took a step forward, wincing a little as the ice creaked beneath him. One foot in front of the other, he thought as he steadied his breathing and resumed his careful pace. He felt himself start to tremble with cold as a chill seemed to creep up his body from the frosty surface beneath his feet. He continued walking forward, just wanting to reach his brother, but feeling more and more frigid the further he went. Finally, having progressed just beyond the halfway point of his journey, he realized that he could no longer feel his toes. He looked down.

Below him, the ice of the pond’s surface, previously opaque, had become completely transparent. The dense, dark, murkiness of the pond’s waters were suddenly removed, affording him a view into its eternal depths. Spaced throughout this bottomless pool were the floating bodies of the countless men, women, and children who had been claimed by the pond over the years. Their upturned faces smiled at him in welcome and, with the surface of the pond all but invisible to him, Anthony could imagine that he was already submerged with them. The ice cracked.

“Bro,” Scott’s voice rang out to him, sounding slightly alarmed. “Remember your promise!”

Anthony remembered. He closed his eyes, he moved his feet forward, and he remembered. He remembered holding Scott’s hand on that last day before the transfer, that final day before he would no longer get to see his brother. He remembered looking into his brother’s sunken, tired eyes and vowing to bring him back home by walking the pond. He remembered, and he walked, and he cried, and the ice creaked and cracked.

“Well done, bro. You made it.”

Anthony opened his eyes. His feet now stood on blessed solid ground and the House of Wishes stood only a few yards in front of him. Scott wasn’t there. The frosted surface of the pond behind him looked just as white and untouched as it had before he’d stepped onto it. He could see the boys across the pond jumping around and yelling with excitement, though he could hear nothing but silence. Without further ado, Anthony walked over to the red-roofed hut, held his breath, and opened the door.