Authors Note: Greenteas and salutations readers! Please, if you are reading this, I thank you. I thank you with all of my heart. This is one of the first original stories on this site I have published and I hope to keep up with going through with it. Please, feel free to comment and to support, but also to give me notes on how to improve. I thank you again!
It was midnight, the moon at full glow. The stars in the crisp winter sky were twinkling like shards of ice embedded in basalt. The witching hour it was, and indeed there was something magical about the wood and the stream that ran through it. The stream widened and opened into a medium sized pond in which the river resumed its course on the opposite side. The pond was completely frozen over while the stream still ran free. The ice looked a cold, crystal blue atop the water, creating a glossy sheen across the dark pond. It was an almost a perfect reflection of the sky; it was as if someone had taken some of the winter skies and poured it into a crevice in the earth. The depths of the pond were as black as squid ink, the darkest of blues highlighting the parts where the small amount of winter light touched the water. It was mysterious, holding secrets no one knew. There was no telling what could lie beneath the atramentous water. Flanking the river were snow-covered banks that glittered from the weak light the moon cast on the ground. The surrounding foliage was frozen over, the slim aspen branches coated with a thin layer of frost and the needles of the pine trees were encased in capsules of ice.
Thump... There was a faint bumping sound, coming from below the ice. A dark figure was pounding on it, creating fine cracks in the glassy surface. Thump... Thump... The figure hit the ice again and again, creating more cracks and slowly breaking through the frozen barrier. Suddenly, the ice broke and a gloved fist punched through it. It felt around and grabbed onto the edge of the hole it created. The hand started to break off big chunks, making the hole big enough for them to squirm their way through. They got their shoulders through the hole, then their arms to help push themselves up onto the surrounding permafrost, free of the suffocating water. The figure's clothes were soaked all the way through, exposing their slim form underneath. They were clutching something red and rectangular. A book, one with a thick spine, old parchment, and a jewel-adorned cover. Whatever it was, it seemed important to the figure judging by the way they were holding it. Once they were safely on the surface, they knelt next to the hole they created and held their hand over the gap. They started to recite a small incantation in a language unfamiliar to most;
"Krao ley fem, shraen ley winsarr," they whispered. Ice started to form over the top of the hole, beginning to erase any evidence that it was there. The figure continued their chant.
"Khave yu jigg E zo malikkan, friez-" A stick snapped and the figure whipped their head towards the noise. The frosted bushes started to move violently and the shrouded figure made their way quickly and silently to the opposite end of the pond. They ran, their boots crunching in the snow and disappearing into the trees, leaving no trace that anyone had disturbed the frozen wood.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped Underneath a Frozen River
FantasyOlibhia Seadh, a poor farm girl living in the country of Kell Trae is passionate about adventuring and documenting her finds. She constantly goes off alone, using it as an excuse to get away from her nine family members. One day, she has to journey...
