Stumble
They were akin to ice and fire.
Could Ice live without her Fire?
Could Fire die without his Ice?
x-x
She had never wanted to come here, not to this house. It was wrought with nostalgia.
Alas, it had been a family tradition to come to this retreat every Christmas, deep away from the hustle bustle of normal life.
She didn't want to stay here this time. Stranded. Alone. Helpless.
It was the first thought that had come to her when she woke up. He was gone. And, soon, all those memories with him would crumble away: that Hibiscus they played on; the Mango tree they had planted. It was the strangest feeling ever.
She caressed the knotted hibiscus and fell into a pensieve chock-full of memories.
The tinkle of young laughter could be heard in the fields. A little boy and girl, barely six, were giggling and fist bumping; squealing and dancing. An old tire lay between them.
"This is the one, I think."
"I can't wait until we put it on that old red tree. It seems older than Grandma!"
They dissolved into giggles.
She wiped a tear from her eyes. She was the Ice Queen. What would people say, when they saw her crying?
He wouldn't want her crying. He would have given her a bottle.
It was an old tradition of theirs. Whenever one of them was feeling upset, they would write out their feelings on some paper, stuff it in a bottle, and bury it.
The next week, they would open the letter and laugh at how utterly insignificant life was.
N/A: The previous cover (which was beautiful) was by @cracker_jack
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Short StoryThey were akin to ice and fire. Could Ice live without her Fire? Could Fire die without his Ice?
