Cold as Ice

Just something I wrote while practicing being able to write a lot of words in a short amount of time for NaNoWriMo. 20 days people!

Her blood was as cold as ice. It always had been, for as long as she could remember. No one, nothing had ever penetrated the icy layer before. And no one could.

But he was as hot as a sun. As hot as a supernova. She could feel the ice melting when she was around him, she could feel it crack and drip and come so close being totally, completely destroyed.

But not just.

She was as cold as ice. But he was as hot as a sun, a supernova, a star, a flame, a world of hot bodies all generating heat simultaneously. And he was melting her.

One part of her, a small part, that had stayed pure, wanted to melt all the way until she was warm again. But with the warmth came pain, and she couldn’t deal with the pain. Not again. Not ever again.

And so the rest of her coldness overruled the small sliver of life left in her, and she stopped talking to him, stopped looking at him, stop acknowledging his existence.

But she still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And she tried to stop. She did try. With everything that her icy self had left in her. But she couldn’t, and some small part of her was happy. And so the rest of it found the infection, and killed it. (maybe use that at the end.)

Retry paragraph:

And she tried to stop. She did. With all of the life left in her. But the small bit of hope succeeded, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find it to get rid of it. She tried, but she couldn’t.

So she went on, continuing with life, and thought about him while she walked. She created conversations with him in her mind while she wiped off the tables at the diner. She imagined scenrarios where they kissed as she bought groceries to make her fridge look more like a fridge.

That was enough for her for a long time. For a very long time.

One day, he walked into the diner. She froze when she saw him, and looked for an exit. But she could find none available.

And so she brought him to a table. Gave him a menu. She asked him what he wanted to drink, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. So she looked down at her feet instead.

When he told her what he wanted to have and handed the menu to her, she had to look up. To take the menu. But by some small accident, she looked at him instead. He smiled at her.


She dropped the menu, right in front of him, and tore off the apron, grabbed her bag, and ran out. Ran home to her tiny little apartment with no food in the fridge and no colour on the walls and the sleeping bag on the floor where she had forgotten to clean it up from the night before. No pictures on the walls, no books, for there were no bookshelves. No bathroom, because she had no money to live alone, and she had nothing inside her to care. She was empty. She was


Ice that expanded, and cracked as she pushed open the door. Ice that melted, ice that broke, ice that froze her up.

Ice that did everything but go away.

So she fell to her knees and sobbed, in the middle of her one room, with the door still open. She stayed that way for quite a while, and when the others who lived on her floor came home, or left their better than hers apartment, they looked in, just for a moment, as If she didn’t know that they were there.

After  while, because she had been there for so long, so loud, and perhaps because she left so eary and came back so late that no one ever saw her, or maybe because no one thought that her little one room was even fit for living, someone called the police.

When the police came, they couldn’t get her to stop crying long enough to ask her any questions. And so they wrapped a shock blanket around her and brought her to the hospital. As if there were something wrong with her.

No officers, she wanted to tell them. No, I’m not crazy. No there’s nothing wrong with me. I just have ice running through my veins instead of blood. But that’s it.

The police men brought her to the hospital and nurse gave her something to make her stop crying. But with the not crying came the dizziness, and the sleepiness, and the blurry sense that nothing was going to be alright ever again, not ever.

When she woke up, she could hear the nurses talking about her to the police officers, but she kept her eyes closed so that they wouldn’t prod at her. She listened to them talk about how she had a stress reaction, and how she was depressed, and no, they didn’t know what caused the stress. About how she shouldn’t have been living alone, even though the law said that she could. She wanted to laugh at the silliness at it all. Cure? There was no cure for having ice inside you.

But the words mulled over it the sound of the EEGs beeping. She could change it when she held her breath, and she smiled in her strange trance. She had always wanted to play an instrument. Sho knew that she just had to hold her breath.

Just for a little while.

The End

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