My mother rarely told the story, and then only under duress. Every time she did she looked at me a little uncertainly, a little askance.
It happened when I was a child. In the winter when the world was dead and cold, the stars brilliant points of frozen light.
I remember only that I was running, breath steaming, hearing their voices calling to me through the mist. They were shouting, calling my name.
Later, when my mother asked me why I had jumped into the freezing lake, I told her that I “had wanted to play with the other children”.
Author bio: Wednesday Silverwood is a horror writer from North London, England. She has had recent work published in 100 Doors to Madness from Forgotten Tomb Press and in SNM Horror Magazine. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association. Please see her website at www.wednesdaysilverwood.co.uk for more information.
Frozen is part of 101 Fiction issue 2.
Wow. A mother's worst nightmare, in so many senses. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI can see why the mother wouldn't want to talk about it. Disturbing. This story brings up a lot of images for me. I can see this mother kneeling beside her child, trying to dry her off and warm her, then shivering when she hears the explanation...
ReplyDeleteChildren can be so mean! And mothers left wondering... *shivers*
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