Pagophobia
Frozen
The beauty of the scene outside of her window was indescribable. She admired how the white stretched over ever surface, shielding the true appearance of it while listening intently to the radio. Every parent and child would currently be sitting in their kitchens, waiting for the DJ to give the verdict; whether their school would be open as usual or whether it would be closed due to the unexpected heavy snowfall that occurred last night.
She was calm, and completely positive that she could spend the rest of the day wrapped up in her dressing gown. There wouldn’t be any need for her to venture outdoors, she’d be completely safe. When a friend phoned, asking excitedly if she wanted to participate in childish activities over the park, she’d politely decline and make up a legitimate excuse about being ill in bed. She took a long, soothing drink from the mug of tea she was hugging between her palms, and waited.
The current song finished, and David O’Brian’s light hearted voice replaced the music. “Now, for all of you who are awaiting news on closures, we’ve got a list in front of us that will be updated within the next hour, but Solihull Borough Council has confirmed that there will be no closures. All pupils are permitted to attend if their school or college is in Solihull. Now for the closures we have so far: Alderbrooke Secondary School, Angels and Saints Primary School, Bolton Sixth Form College…”
It was then the nausea set in, and she had to put down the china mug because of the immediate clamminess that was beginning to seep out of every pore.
“Well Bryony, you better start getting ready if you want to catch your bus,” her mother sighed, gently squeezing her shoulder.
She envisioned getting onto the bus, sitting in her usual place on the top deck towards the front. Ruth would join her at the next stop, drenched from the snow flakes and red in the face but she would be smiling with excitement. The roads, most would have been gritted in preparation for those that had to brave the weather conditions and get on with their daily routine. However there wasn’t enough to cover ever inch of tarmac, and it was too early in the morning for the trucks to have made there way around every possible route. The bus would hit a patch of ice; the driver would lose control of the wheel. Bryony and Ruth would be talking, people would be reading the morning paper and listening to music and they would all stop in unison when they felt the vehicle lurch slightly too much to left, then waver to the right. She’d be the first to scream as they continued to move in all directions, and eventually everyone would join in the panic as the bus leaned over too far and didn’t stop leaning till it fell completely on its side…
“No, mom I can’t go to college today,” she shrieked. “Mom, I can’t. I feel really ill. I’m burning up and all my muscles are aching.”
Mrs. Partridge turned back round to face her daughter, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. She pushed Bryony’s fringe of her face so she could place the back of her hand against her bare forehead. The temperature was regular, but she noticed the beads of sweat that were clinging to her skin.
“You’re fine, you’re going in. This is an incredibly important year of your education, darling. A level grades don’t just fall into your lap. I know you’d rather stay and play in the snow, but if they think it’s safe for you to go in then there is no reason why you can’t go.” she told her firmly, before walking out of the kitchen.
Safe. It baffled her how anybody could consider the icy climate to have any element of safety. Her mother wanted to send her outside to walk towards the bus stop that was located ten minutes away. Her boots would protect her feet from the possibility of frost bite, but there wasn’t an ounce of grip on the soles. She would fall backwards, and her skull would shatter with the contact it made on the pavement. Her scarlet blood would stain the deadly snow. She’d immediately fall unconscious, but nobody would find her limp body for hours, by the time she was rushed to hospital it would be too late.
Or if she continued, with only a few slips that she steadied herself from. She’d walk on the grass that sat between the pavement and the road, as there was less of a risk of slipping on the surface. A car would be driving recklessly however, no matter how much care she was taking, she couldn’t control anybody else. They’d swerve onto the path, narrowly missing one of the streetlights, but colliding straight into her side.
Bryony shook her head, to brush away the thoughts that were causing her heart to palpitate. It wasn’t as easy to shake away the trembling of her body. She hurried upstairs, to her bedroom. The first thing she did was close her blinds, shutting out the image she had temporarily found beauty in. Instead of opening her draws to take out her clothes, she pushed them in front of her door. Her idea was to simply barricade herself inside the solitude of her room. It would stop anybody entering, and stop anybody forcing her against her own will to leave.
Her phone vibrated on her bedside table, Dean flashing on the screen in time with the sound of Something Corporate. She rushed to pick it up, ready to hear the soothing sound of her boyfriend’s voice. The only person she had ever confided in. The one she told why she always requested to have her diet coke without ice and why she would never join their friends when they went to the rink. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Babe, do you want me stay off college with you today? I’ll bring round a tonne of summery films and we can just snuggle under blankets?”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”
They both executed the phone call, finishing with an exchange of ‘I love you.’ She knew there would be twenty minutes at least before he joined her, as he had to travel to get to her house. She dressed and applied minimal amount of make-up. She heard her mother leave to take her little brother to school, before she went to work. Then she struggled to move the furniture back in its correct place, when she needed to get out of her room.
Half an hour past, Dean hadn’t knocked on the door or sent an apologetic text about running late. The radio was still humming in the kitchen, with the deathly words of “Breaking News.” She ran into the room, to listen to what followed, out of interest to prove her point that nobody was safe today. The 169 bus had skidded, crashing into a tree with 5 fatalities and 14 casualties. Her heart stopped. He had to get on a bus to get to her.
A tear blended with the moisture of the sweat. She wasn't gloating internally anymore about how she'd been proved right. Yet her once irrational phobia had been justified too much for her panicking heart.
She was calm, and completely positive that she could spend the rest of the day wrapped up in her dressing gown. There wouldn’t be any need for her to venture outdoors, she’d be completely safe. When a friend phoned, asking excitedly if she wanted to participate in childish activities over the park, she’d politely decline and make up a legitimate excuse about being ill in bed. She took a long, soothing drink from the mug of tea she was hugging between her palms, and waited.
The current song finished, and David O’Brian’s light hearted voice replaced the music. “Now, for all of you who are awaiting news on closures, we’ve got a list in front of us that will be updated within the next hour, but Solihull Borough Council has confirmed that there will be no closures. All pupils are permitted to attend if their school or college is in Solihull. Now for the closures we have so far: Alderbrooke Secondary School, Angels and Saints Primary School, Bolton Sixth Form College…”
It was then the nausea set in, and she had to put down the china mug because of the immediate clamminess that was beginning to seep out of every pore.
“Well Bryony, you better start getting ready if you want to catch your bus,” her mother sighed, gently squeezing her shoulder.
She envisioned getting onto the bus, sitting in her usual place on the top deck towards the front. Ruth would join her at the next stop, drenched from the snow flakes and red in the face but she would be smiling with excitement. The roads, most would have been gritted in preparation for those that had to brave the weather conditions and get on with their daily routine. However there wasn’t enough to cover ever inch of tarmac, and it was too early in the morning for the trucks to have made there way around every possible route. The bus would hit a patch of ice; the driver would lose control of the wheel. Bryony and Ruth would be talking, people would be reading the morning paper and listening to music and they would all stop in unison when they felt the vehicle lurch slightly too much to left, then waver to the right. She’d be the first to scream as they continued to move in all directions, and eventually everyone would join in the panic as the bus leaned over too far and didn’t stop leaning till it fell completely on its side…
“No, mom I can’t go to college today,” she shrieked. “Mom, I can’t. I feel really ill. I’m burning up and all my muscles are aching.”
Mrs. Partridge turned back round to face her daughter, lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. She pushed Bryony’s fringe of her face so she could place the back of her hand against her bare forehead. The temperature was regular, but she noticed the beads of sweat that were clinging to her skin.
“You’re fine, you’re going in. This is an incredibly important year of your education, darling. A level grades don’t just fall into your lap. I know you’d rather stay and play in the snow, but if they think it’s safe for you to go in then there is no reason why you can’t go.” she told her firmly, before walking out of the kitchen.
Safe. It baffled her how anybody could consider the icy climate to have any element of safety. Her mother wanted to send her outside to walk towards the bus stop that was located ten minutes away. Her boots would protect her feet from the possibility of frost bite, but there wasn’t an ounce of grip on the soles. She would fall backwards, and her skull would shatter with the contact it made on the pavement. Her scarlet blood would stain the deadly snow. She’d immediately fall unconscious, but nobody would find her limp body for hours, by the time she was rushed to hospital it would be too late.
Or if she continued, with only a few slips that she steadied herself from. She’d walk on the grass that sat between the pavement and the road, as there was less of a risk of slipping on the surface. A car would be driving recklessly however, no matter how much care she was taking, she couldn’t control anybody else. They’d swerve onto the path, narrowly missing one of the streetlights, but colliding straight into her side.
Bryony shook her head, to brush away the thoughts that were causing her heart to palpitate. It wasn’t as easy to shake away the trembling of her body. She hurried upstairs, to her bedroom. The first thing she did was close her blinds, shutting out the image she had temporarily found beauty in. Instead of opening her draws to take out her clothes, she pushed them in front of her door. Her idea was to simply barricade herself inside the solitude of her room. It would stop anybody entering, and stop anybody forcing her against her own will to leave.
Her phone vibrated on her bedside table, Dean flashing on the screen in time with the sound of Something Corporate. She rushed to pick it up, ready to hear the soothing sound of her boyfriend’s voice. The only person she had ever confided in. The one she told why she always requested to have her diet coke without ice and why she would never join their friends when they went to the rink. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Babe, do you want me stay off college with you today? I’ll bring round a tonne of summery films and we can just snuggle under blankets?”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”
They both executed the phone call, finishing with an exchange of ‘I love you.’ She knew there would be twenty minutes at least before he joined her, as he had to travel to get to her house. She dressed and applied minimal amount of make-up. She heard her mother leave to take her little brother to school, before she went to work. Then she struggled to move the furniture back in its correct place, when she needed to get out of her room.
Half an hour past, Dean hadn’t knocked on the door or sent an apologetic text about running late. The radio was still humming in the kitchen, with the deathly words of “Breaking News.” She ran into the room, to listen to what followed, out of interest to prove her point that nobody was safe today. The 169 bus had skidded, crashing into a tree with 5 fatalities and 14 casualties. Her heart stopped. He had to get on a bus to get to her.
A tear blended with the moisture of the sweat. She wasn't gloating internally anymore about how she'd been proved right. Yet her once irrational phobia had been justified too much for her panicking heart.