There’s a room. Gray walls, and brilliant red curtains, embroidered in gold. A lone fireplace sits at the opposite of the drapery, its flames high, as if wanting to lick the cloth, devour its very presence. Don’t open the curtains. I tell myself, you won’t like what you see. But do I listen to this obviously wise voice? No. I continue to take small steps towards the beautiful, alluring cloth. My mind shuts down, goes blank, and I’m unaware of my actions. Unaware of my arms, reaching out to pull away and expose the window. It’s a worn window, grayed with age, and sealed shut from not being used often enough, but the scene outside the window is what really catches my attention. It’s beautiful. Lush green grass, clear blue skies, and an abundance of colour coming from multiple sources. I long for it. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic, as if the very walls were closing in on me, and my vision goes hazy as I try to stay in control of the situation. But I can’t. The need to be outside, with the wind through my dark brown locks, and a tiara of soft orchids atop my head is overwhelming. I feel my hands pushing open the window with all my force backing them, but the window makes no movement. The panic sets in, and clouds my better judgement. Within seconds, my hands have broken through the glass. Immediately, I’m taken back a few steps as the sweet delicious scent of mock orange, and honeysuckle fills the air around me, swaddles me. I close my eyes a moment, just feeling the warm breeze wash over me. The window is my only way out, and it’s just a few steps away. As soon as I reach the window, about to leap to salvation, I shiver. The warm breeze has been replaced, by a thick, freezing, and violent wind. Another look outside shows me that the lush grass is dying at an alarming speed, and the trees thick foliage turning gray and falling. I don’t know what’s happening or why it happened so suddenly. It’s on the verge of making me sicker than before. Sweat has started to bead on my forehead, even though it’s cold. I realize I’m waiting for something, because nothing that good could go that bad without reasoning. Then I see it. The ice. Slowly encroaching, working its way towards me, covering everything with a seemingly thin, but deadly layer of and freezing the whole meadow to death, like a warning to me. “This is coming for you.” It said. I back up, and look around for any protection, but there’s none. My head whips backwards, suddenly remembering the fire. It’s no longer there, not even a trace it existed. No glowing embers, no smoke. It’s just gone. I hear a whisper that sends my blood running cold. “Ava,” It’s coming from the ice. It knows my name. A scream escapes my lungs just as the ice closes the remaining gap between us.
