It all goes back to that first summer. That was many years ago, before your grandparents were born. We had only just come here, and we thought ourselves fortunate that our neighbors were newcomers as well. But that first summer was a hot one, the road sizzled and the very air seemed to burn. Back then, the only way to keep things cold was ice, and as ice does, it quickly began to melt. We begged our neighbors for some of theirs, but they coldly refused. And thus, that winter, the tradition began…
She crept through the night. The first snowfall crunched beneath her slippers. With cold, wet, numb hands she climbed up the old oak tree and very carefully reached across to the upstairs window. Just a little push, and it slid open, and she slipped inside the neighbors' house.
Inside was dark and creaky, full of all the dangerous things that lurked inside a strange house at night. She was in a bedroom, where young twins lay sleeping, the only sound their quiet breathing… in… and out… and in… and out.
She padded across the floor, carefully tiptoeing around toys and clothes, desperately trying not to stir the old floorboards. Her foot caught on a book and she tripped. The floor creaked. A twin stirred. Her heart pounded. She sprung for the door and out into the long, dark hall.
At the far end of the hall was the shadowy shape of the staircase, leading down into the rest of the house. Not much further now. One foot in front of the other, like a tightrope walker. Creak… creak… Creak… thud.
She bumped into something soft and pointy all at once and they both jumped back in surprise. In the dark she saw another girl creeping around in her nightclothes, just a couple inches taller. She had seen the girl before.
"What are you doing out of bed?" she hissed.
"What are you doing here?" the girl hissed back.
"None of your business!"
"Sure is my business! This is my house!"
"I bet you're sneaking out to steal ice from my house!"
Creak. Something stirred in the other room.
The girl held a finger to her lips and waved her down the stairs, into the cavernous living room.
Only when they were out of hearing of upstairs did the girl dare whisper, "Is that why you're here, to steal our ice?"
"Maybe. I wouldn't tell you if I was."
The girl stuck out her tongue. "Take it all, I don't know what the big deal is about stupid ice anyway." Slowly a look crept into her eyes. "Say, I have an even better idea for a much better prank we could play."
"What?" she asked dubiously.
The girl leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"Oh, that is even better!"
Writer's Month - word: ice | setting: a story told through generations
AUgust - Annoying Neighbor
Flufftober (catch-up August) - Silly Traditions