The Edge of Winter

Chapter 1

The floor creaked under me as I approached our old, outdated, kitchen. The wooden paneling was faded and small stains from earlier years could be seen amongst them. The once yellow walls were now dotted with white patches where the paint had begun to peel, and our chandelier flickered with age.

As I crept closer to the kitchens wide opening, my mother's hushed voice floated through the air. "I'm just a bit worried, isn't she a bit old now to have imaginary friends?" She paused for a moment before continuing, "it was cute when she was 5, but now.. she's almost 12 Henry." Her voice was filled with concern and confusion as she revealed her thoughts to my father. His lips thinned into a straight line, taking her words into consideration. The wrinkles on his forehead appeared, just like they always did when he was deep in thought, proving once again how much he had aged within the years. My mother's foot tapped impatiently against the kitchens white tile as she bit the figure nails off her right hand.

After a moment of silence went by, my father finally spoke up. "She's struggling to make friends here Judy. Maybe this is her way of coping." My breath caught in my throat at the sound of my fathers harsh confession. My feet began moving in reverse, towards the back door. They thought I was crazy. The door slammed behind me and I broke into a sprint. Small snow flakes drifted in the wind around me, adding to the inch of snow that already covered the ground like a cold, icy, blanket. My feet grew cold quickly, and I realized that I was only wearing a pair of thin slippers. Behind me I could hear the faint sound of my name being called but I had already made it to the edge of the forest and had no intention of turning around now.

I pushed through the thick brush of trees and headed towards the area of the forest that I had visited so many times before. To Jack. The feeling in my feet began to fade, leaving behind pink toes and numbness, but I pushed on. My pace only slowed when I entered into the opening amongst the Everest trees. I scanned the small area, looking for a certain white haired boy. "Jack!" My voice came out shaky and desperate as I called out to my friend. My heart beat fast and my breath quickened. A knot formed in my throat as I fought back the tears that threatened to spill out. "Jack!" My voice quivered again and I fell to my knees. I felt weak and stupid and in need of a friend, but the forest was silent. The tears I had been holding back finally overtook me and I laid there in the cold snow shivering and calling out for my dear friend.

But he wasn't here.
Jack was gone.
Maybe I was crazy.
~~~~
5 years later..

"Ring around the Rosie," I picked up my queen and brought her 5 spots to the left. "A pocket full of posies," the nurse countered my move, bringing her bishop into the line of fire. "Ashes, ashes," I took out her Bishop, leaving her king trapped and defenceless. "We all fall down," my voice drifted throughout the old asylum, the nursery rhyme chimming in the ears of the few others that scattered the room. Across from me on the other side of the chest board sat my favourite nurse. She had long dark hair that she pulled back into a tight bun and big round hazel eyes. Her smile was soft and sweet and her words came out gentle. On her left shoulder, just above her breast sat a name tag. Amanda, it read it big bold letters.

"Carmen. You have a visitor," a voice from behind called just as I begun setting up the chest board again. My eyes stayed pointed towards the task that laid before me, paying no attention to the tiresome nurse at my rear. My hands moved slow and precisely as I placed each piece into its assigned area. One spot sat wide open on the board. My eyes scanned the surrounding space before landing on the white king. His majesty had rolled off the table and could now be seen peaking his head out behind the tables left leg. It had a large indent in its side from a previous game of mine. This game had taken place when I had first arrived, 4 years ago. My thumb traced over the marking just as a cold, stiff hand planted itself on my right shoulder. The grip was tight and in no way meant to be interpreted as a friendly gesture.