Short Story: 'Ice'

 by Alexia Romaniuc

A coral glow radiating from the now hidden sun lay blissfully like an aura around the icy mountains. The crisp Antarctic air grazes the peaks and smoothly dandles the snow that rests there. Occasionally, a small avalanche would stir up the neat layers of snow: the muffled sound of snow tumbling could only be heard if stood near, otherwise the small inconvenience is very nearly silent. The soft ombre of the sky changed its colours rapidly as time went on, shifting from shades of rosy blushes to mauve palettes of amethyst gemstones.

Even in the evening the snow sparkled. Why does snow sparkle? If the glimmer of snow is caused by the rays of sunlight, then why doesn't the snow glow a pinkish colour to match its sky? Instead, a glacial blue toned white takes up most of the landscape with its bright demand for attention. The fresh layer of slush below the mountains was sparse in terms of density: it wanders like a traveler as its lightweight mass is carried along the avalanche's plunge pool in the arms of the diligent wind. Like little infants, the snowflakes cheered together as their eyes sparkled from the sudden decline in temperature - a nice low below freezing degree allowed their curiosity to have more freedom as the night grows colder.

For the adventurous climbers this decrease in temperature was predictable (if not common sense) hence the ponderous weight of their backpacks which provide them with the equipment needed for the soon deep and treacherous trail they will embark on. The big blue mountains stood their ground as the miniscule explorers passed by the base of the high altitude of land. The giants mark their territories with the occasional spit of frost hitting the cold-proof coats of the people, surpassing the barrier of clothing with ease.

The explorer's eyes glowed with colour of the pinkish sky as their sight is occupied merely by the delicious sight of the crispy water which projects the image of the sky perfectly and flawlessly (apart from the ripples that surfed along the surface of it). Their frosty eyelashes blinked furiously to overcome the blur in their vision from the white fuzz of snowflakes. They halted to a stop simultaneously to take in the beautiful symmetry of the mirrored reflection of a unique arrangement of pastel shades of salmon in the lake. No one said anything for a while, however they could tell they all wanted to take a mental picture of what lay in front of them.

Some more time passed as they suddenly became aware of their empty breaths that were disguised by the now deadly icy wind that roared and tore apart their expensive wind-proof coats. The low buzz of the walkie talkie awakened most of the group: the sudden realization that they were standing still hit them. Hard. A swhoosh of whistling coldness surely surged through their bodies - telling them to keep moving.

Although ethereal, the view before them was lethal.