Forty-two: under the ice

Temperance

I am deep in the forest. Deep enough not to know my way back. Trees and snow surround me.

As I stupidly walk along the edge of the iced-over pond. I hum a song my mother once sang to me whenever I was younger. I don't know the song's name. Or words. I remember the rhythm.

Then I stop and turn towards the pond. I took a deep breath and stepped into the ice. I balance myself on the slippery ice below me.

I start walking out towards the middle of the pond. Then to my horror, I hear cracks from under my feet. I hold my breath and stand perfectly still.

Then the ice cracks more. I try to shuffle away. Then the ice gives out under me. I plunge below the ice into the freezing water. The water feels like knives stabbing me.

Under the ice, it is dark. I swim back up to the surface and struggle to catch my breath. I grab onto the ice that is still holding up.

I weakly pull half of my body out of the ice water, leaving my legs in for a second. I take a deep breath of the freezing air