And yet here you are again...
A young girl stood outside of a rather respectable looking building. Neither a mansion nor a shack, the building could of easily been camouflaged and hidden amidst all the other, similarly-built edifices in the neighborhood. Yet it stood out to her, not because of any of its physical qualities, but because of the emotional value it meant to her.
Her brown eyes darted around the street, before landing on what seemed like an insignificant patch of dried grass. That’s where my friends and I played tag every afternoon, she thought, quickly glancing away. And that’s where I twisted my ankle, remembered the girl as she passed her eyes over a section of the curb. The air around her began to cool, and the girl wrapped her arms around her chest, against the fine velvet of her black vest, before sitting down on a step. As the first flakes of snow began to fall, she seemed to see something on the blank concrete street and shivered. Whether it was from the cold or from a distant memory coming back to haunt her, she wasn't sure. And that’s where...
Suddenly, she felt herself sucked back into the confines of her mind, where dreams, reality, and memories seemed to mix into one. She landed in the very same neighborhood she was just exploring earlier. The snow was piled up high, and it was evident that it had been falling for several hours, if not days, at this point. Instead of a deserted street, all the kids in the neighborhood were out, making snow forts and snow angels and anything else they could think of making from the soft, mushy whiteness. One of the kids waved at the girl, like she had been there the whole time. “Come join us, Lyn! We’re gonna start a snowball fight soon.” The girl felt herself grin as her short legs brought her as quickly as they could toward the kid. “We’ll be defense, and we have to protect the flag,” her friend said, pointing at a piece of wet cloth hanging from a tree.
“Sounds fun!” replied Lyn. She grabbed a handful of snow and made a perfect sphere out of it. As the first enemy barged toward her, she playfully aimed her snowball at his chest and successfully made him stagger backwards from the impact. She followed that attack with a few more random tosses of snow, but just as she was about to fling her fifth snowball at her target she felt her legs give way as someone else managed to hit her. Caught up in the moment, Lyn turned around and ran towards her attacker, a girl a few years older than her, with a snowball at the ready, and threw it at the person’s stomach.
What happened next happened far too quickly for Lyn to comprehend, yet the memory seemed keen on slowing down just enough for her to remember every last detail of the scene. The ball exploded on contact, but instead of falling slowly to the ground, the bits of snow from both the projectile and the surrounding air seemed to engulf the other girl and landing on her clothes, skin, and basically every inch of her body. As the snow settled, it melted and quickly refroze, creating a perfect, glistening skin of ice on the girl. From far away, she could of even passed as an artfully crafted ice sculpture; the artist was able to deftly capture the fear and surprise in the wild look in her eyes, the rigidness of her body as if anticipating something, and the pose of a person about to flee from danger yet, quite literally, frozen in fear from doing so.
Let it stop already, Lyn begged, but the flashback was far from being over.
“Why isn’t she moving?”
“She’s covered in ice!”
“Quick, somebody get her mother.”
Lyn felt herself petrified in place, paralyzed from the sight of her friend just freezing in front of her. She felt questions reeling about in her mind, and the shock of having to relive the horrific event rendered her both speechless and unable to grasp the situation. She had a vague feeling that her reaction during the actual event wasn’t very different from how she felt now.
“Lyn did it, I saw her throw the snowball!”
Who had said that? Time after time of reliving this memory, Lyn still couldn't remember the person’s voice, or their face. Before she could turn around, she felt several things hit her: a few snowballs, some branches, and even the wet cloth managed to smack her cheek before she was able to find the resolve to pick up her legs and run.
Her old friends and neighbors chased her, menacingly waving metal rods and guns around as they followed her out of the street. A few of the braver souls managed to get her to the next block, and then they set their dogs out and chased her into the next city. By the time the beasts were done growling at her and were being called home to their owners, Lyn was panting in a dark alleyway, clutching her side from having to exert herself so much. She remembered feeling awfully lonely that night, and wishing she could of at least apologized to her brother or even said good-bye to him.
Finally managing to resurface into the present, where the snow hadn't even begun to stick to the ground yet, Lyn stood up and looked up at the house before her. She guessed that her brother, and the rest of her family, were probably long gone by now. How many years had it been? Seven, eight? And yet, she hadn't grown much since that time; she could of easily passed as a nine-year-old girl. Lyn tugged on one of her black pigtails and sighed, watching the misty condensation of her breath evaporate into the thin air.
Turning around, Lyn took a step, her foot landing on what looked like a white cloud of ice. She ascended into the air and, after taking a good, final look at her old home, flew away into the sky.
This is not where she should begin her search.
A young girl stood outside of a rather respectable looking building. Neither a mansion nor a shack, the building could of easily been camouflaged and hidden amidst all the other, similarly-built edifices in the neighborhood. Yet it stood out to her, not because of any of its physical qualities, but because of the emotional value it meant to her.
Her brown eyes darted around the street, before landing on what seemed like an insignificant patch of dried grass. That’s where my friends and I played tag every afternoon, she thought, quickly glancing away. And that’s where I twisted my ankle, remembered the girl as she passed her eyes over a section of the curb. The air around her began to cool, and the girl wrapped her arms around her chest, against the fine velvet of her black vest, before sitting down on a step. As the first flakes of snow began to fall, she seemed to see something on the blank concrete street and shivered. Whether it was from the cold or from a distant memory coming back to haunt her, she wasn't sure. And that’s where...
Suddenly, she felt herself sucked back into the confines of her mind, where dreams, reality, and memories seemed to mix into one. She landed in the very same neighborhood she was just exploring earlier. The snow was piled up high, and it was evident that it had been falling for several hours, if not days, at this point. Instead of a deserted street, all the kids in the neighborhood were out, making snow forts and snow angels and anything else they could think of making from the soft, mushy whiteness. One of the kids waved at the girl, like she had been there the whole time. “Come join us, Lyn! We’re gonna start a snowball fight soon.” The girl felt herself grin as her short legs brought her as quickly as they could toward the kid. “We’ll be defense, and we have to protect the flag,” her friend said, pointing at a piece of wet cloth hanging from a tree.
“Sounds fun!” replied Lyn. She grabbed a handful of snow and made a perfect sphere out of it. As the first enemy barged toward her, she playfully aimed her snowball at his chest and successfully made him stagger backwards from the impact. She followed that attack with a few more random tosses of snow, but just as she was about to fling her fifth snowball at her target she felt her legs give way as someone else managed to hit her. Caught up in the moment, Lyn turned around and ran towards her attacker, a girl a few years older than her, with a snowball at the ready, and threw it at the person’s stomach.
What happened next happened far too quickly for Lyn to comprehend, yet the memory seemed keen on slowing down just enough for her to remember every last detail of the scene. The ball exploded on contact, but instead of falling slowly to the ground, the bits of snow from both the projectile and the surrounding air seemed to engulf the other girl and landing on her clothes, skin, and basically every inch of her body. As the snow settled, it melted and quickly refroze, creating a perfect, glistening skin of ice on the girl. From far away, she could of even passed as an artfully crafted ice sculpture; the artist was able to deftly capture the fear and surprise in the wild look in her eyes, the rigidness of her body as if anticipating something, and the pose of a person about to flee from danger yet, quite literally, frozen in fear from doing so.
Let it stop already, Lyn begged, but the flashback was far from being over.
“Why isn’t she moving?”
“She’s covered in ice!”
“Quick, somebody get her mother.”
Lyn felt herself petrified in place, paralyzed from the sight of her friend just freezing in front of her. She felt questions reeling about in her mind, and the shock of having to relive the horrific event rendered her both speechless and unable to grasp the situation. She had a vague feeling that her reaction during the actual event wasn’t very different from how she felt now.
“Lyn did it, I saw her throw the snowball!”
Who had said that? Time after time of reliving this memory, Lyn still couldn't remember the person’s voice, or their face. Before she could turn around, she felt several things hit her: a few snowballs, some branches, and even the wet cloth managed to smack her cheek before she was able to find the resolve to pick up her legs and run.
Her old friends and neighbors chased her, menacingly waving metal rods and guns around as they followed her out of the street. A few of the braver souls managed to get her to the next block, and then they set their dogs out and chased her into the next city. By the time the beasts were done growling at her and were being called home to their owners, Lyn was panting in a dark alleyway, clutching her side from having to exert herself so much. She remembered feeling awfully lonely that night, and wishing she could of at least apologized to her brother or even said good-bye to him.
Finally managing to resurface into the present, where the snow hadn't even begun to stick to the ground yet, Lyn stood up and looked up at the house before her. She guessed that her brother, and the rest of her family, were probably long gone by now. How many years had it been? Seven, eight? And yet, she hadn't grown much since that time; she could of easily passed as a nine-year-old girl. Lyn tugged on one of her black pigtails and sighed, watching the misty condensation of her breath evaporate into the thin air.
Turning around, Lyn took a step, her foot landing on what looked like a white cloud of ice. She ascended into the air and, after taking a good, final look at her old home, flew away into the sky.
This is not where she should begin her search.
