Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Crystal (04/24/25)
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TITLE: Piercing Beauty | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lynae Fisher
04/30/25 -
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The powerful sunbeams kept me warm and comfortable, but the surface temperature of the sparkling beauty around me was cold enough to freeze any moisture that came in contact with it. I continued crafting the shapes and figures that lined the ice palace.
The sun was lowering in the sky. I needed to finish this last sculpture before sunset. Once the sun set, the full force of the cold would take over, making it much too dangerous to be outside. Wielding my tools carefully, I carved the intricate feathered designs of the little dove perched on the ice branch.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of snow crunching behind me. Before I could turn to look, little Brookie rushed in.
“Pretty!”
“Brookie, what are you doing without gloves on? You’ll… NOOOO!!!”
She reached to touch one of the figures. I dove to stop her, but was too late. Her hand stuck fast. The radiant light was fading as the sun dropped over the hill.
“Ouch. It bited me,” she said, not understanding what was going on.
I tried to pull her hand off the figure, but it was frozen too firmly. She did not complain about the figure ‘biting’ her anymore. Her hand was already going numb. Soon, the ice would freeze deeper into her hand. The sun was almost completely hidden. It would only get colder. Somehow, someway, I had to save her before she turned into an ice statue herself.
“My hand hurts,” she moaned.
“I’ll get you out of here somehow,” I promised, as I looked around to see what I could use to free her hand.
If I could get her in the house, I could thaw her hand. Right now, her hand was stuck to the back of an ice rooster. Finally, I had an idea.
I picked up my sculpture knife. Carefully carving the ice around her hand, I began cutting away at the ice. The less ice I took with her hand, the less ice there would be to continue freezing her on the way home. On the other hand, I did not want to injure her already frozen fingers.
“Almost done,” I mumbled, half to her and half to myself.
One final cut, and her hand was freed from the figure, but not from the ice that already penetrated her hand.
“I’m cold.”
“I know. Let’s get you to the house.”
I scooped her up and ran as quickly as I could towards the house. One last ray of sunlight touched the roof of the house as if to point the way to our only chance of rescue. Already, the ice palace was engulfed in shadow. Below zero temperatures set in. The warmth of daylight had made the air so pleasant it had felt much warmer than it really was. Now, that elusion was gone.
Running with Brookie in my arms kept me warm, but I knew she was getting colder. At last, I stumbled onto the porch, yanked open the door, and crashed into the warm air inside the house. Landing on her feet as I half fell through the door, she did not need to be told to go sit up by the fire. At least she knew that much, I thought.
While she curled up by the fire, I ran to the kitchen for a bowl of warm water. I tested it as it poured out of the faucet. When I returned, she sat on the floor, clutching her wrist.
“Here, put your hand in the water.”
She carefully dipped her frozen ice-incased hand in the bowl of water. Slowly, the ice melted and her hand began to thaw. The chunks of ice surrounding her hand let go and floated in the water. She began to move her hand again. We sat with our back to the fire.
“That pretty rooster wasn’t very nice,” she muttered.
“Not everything that looks nice is nice when you get too close to it,” I replied, a thousand examples swimming in my head. Sometimes the most dangerous things are the things that seem the most beautiful and harmless.
The fire crackled behind us as if to agree.
(Fiction)
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