A/N : Thank you all for reviewing! They made my day and helped motivate me to write more. :) Here it is!
Chapter 3
Under my warm covers, I stared at the ceiling. Each panel of wood was full of detail, begging me to draw it in my journal. I ignored the soundless wood, and shifted my gaze over to the window. The sun's rays lit my room, and my old fashioned alarm clock (kind with the ring that would scare even frickin Batman awake) read 9:14AM. I threw both feet onto the floor and merrily bounded down the stairs. I slung my ice skates, my bow and quiver, and my gamebag full of lunch over my shoulders. I planned on tracking back to the pond I had found last night, and possibly practicing my bow and arrow shooting, as well as trying out ice skating for the first time.
The trees encircling the pond were all covered in sparkling frost. Last night it had frozen well below zero, a little unusual considering that the drop in temperature happened gradually around here. Sitting on a slippery ice-coated log (the snow was far too cold to sit in), I laced up my white skates, blades showing my reflection and glinting in the sun. They reminded me of some sort of samurai sword that people always pulled out dramatically in movies. Instead of laughing at my thoughts though, I just blew out more air than usual from my nose. The cold vapor looked like smoke, and prompted me to think of a Chinese dragon jouncing and weaving about in a parade. With a samurai riding its back. That time I laughed out loud, for the first time in a while. It felt nice.
At last, I stood cautiously, testing my balance and footing. It felt bizarre. I scooted and scuttled precariously perched on thin blades of metal towards the nearest bank of ice. My bladed foot caught the ice, made a groove, and glided along without much care for the wishes of the rest of my body. The feeling of being observed returned, and I instinctively whirled around to face the treeline, throwing caution to the wind. Lo and behold, I slipped and landed painfully on my back in the process. I looked up in surprise, because it seemed as if the trees were laughing at me. They swayed and shook, personifications of pure amusement. I tilted my head and looked at them in puzzlement. Did I get a concussion? They stopped all at once, and stood unmoving, ancient and frozen. Like trees should. It was as if a condescending general had entered the barracks of his unruly recruits, his presence demanding that they form a uniform line of army green before him. Concussion or not, I was determined to ice skate. I directed my attention back to the pond, and got to my feet.
Everytime I thought that I was making progress, a gust of wind blew me sideways into the ice. I was sure that my sides and elbows were turning black and blue by the 12th time I had fallen. But I picked myself up and tried again, my face set in a mask of determination. I wasn't going home until I could skate, and skate well. Unfortunately for me, the wind had other plans.
I was finally doing well, skating in wide arcs, when an icy burst of wind hit me in the face, much like the wind from the night before. I fell backwards and landed hard for a second time on my back. The air was knocked out of my lungs, and I laid there, waiting for crisp life to inflate them again. The wind rushed into them, without much effort on my part. I didn't even have to inhale. I felt defeated. I had always considered myself a quiet, peaceful person, but this fall was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Still lying on the ice, legs and arms sprawled out, I screamed in fury at the entire forest. The terrifying sound carried across the pond easily, and scattered birds in the distant treeline. As they flew away, happy and free, I lay there on my back, feeling as though I weighed a thousand pounds. I closed my eyes and swallowed my pride. But I forgot to swallow my tears. A couple rolled slowly down my face, and froze after cooling in the now soft wind. They came from years of sorrow and pain that had finally been uncaged. I stopped crying and sat up. I was freezing, and began murmuring a song my parents used to sing to myself out loud, paused, then actually softly sung it. There was no one around to hear it anyway. I recalled the memory of Christmastime, and let myself believe every word, every ounce of the song.
"Chestnuts... Roasting on an open fire..."
I closed my eyes, felt a new sense of coldness seep through my jacket, and continued the song.
N/A : You all know the next line, but if you don't, just look up the lyrics to The Christmas Song. It's a classic. :D Jack's about to make an appearance!