Frostbitten
300 Years Ago...
"Sweetheart," her mother called. "Come on inside, you'll catch a cold!"
The girl sat in her childhood swing, absentmindedly swaying back and forth as she stared at the ground. She didn't care if she got a cold. In fact, these past few days the cold had been more welcoming than usual for some reason. Every time the cold air brought a new flush to her cheeks or the tip of her nose grew numb she swore, though she had no idea why, she could feel Jack's presence. Evasn though she knew he was dead and would never come back. It sounded so silly; she would never tell her mom that was why she moped around outside when her mother asked why she couldn't come inside and be sad.
That stupid stupid crazy boy. Everyone kept telling her, "Jack wouldn't want you to be sad, he was all about fun!" Blah, blah, blah. Fun was what got that idiot killed. Pippa, his little sister who he died saving, told the story all the time. Yes, he did die saving her, but if he hadn't been out there on the flimsy ice messing around and trying to "have fun" in the first place, he wouldn't have been in that situation and he wouldn't have died.
But even if this cold spell was his death, it still didn't explain why she swore she could feel him every time she was outside. "Curse you, Jackson Overland," she muttered under her breath. With each word her breath made clouds in the cold air. "Leaving me here like this." It didn't help that she always chose to sit in this swing too, this swing that so many memories had been made.
"I'm scared," she said quietly.
"Oh come on. It's really fun. You'll see," Jack coaxed, gently pushing the swing so that it swayed softly back and forth.
"Okay. Just a little bit," she relented. He walked back a few steps with the ropes of the swing in his hands and let go. She closed her eyes, then realized the swing was already back in Jack's hands. "Okay, a little higher," she said, becoming braver by the second. They were only 5, and as many times as she had seen Jack have loads of fun in these things, she was always too scared she would fall right out. There were no buckles or belts to keep her in the swing, after all. Jack stepped back two more steps, about to let go.
"Not too high!" she squealed.
"You mean like this?" little Jack asked with a mischievous smirk on his face, a smirk that went with him into his teenage years. The same way he always had a playful glint in those big brown eyes. He ran back with the swing and then let go as hard as he could. She went flying in the air with a scream.
"No! Jack!!! Get me down!" she shut her eyes tightly. It was fun, she had to admit. He ran forward to grab the swing, skidding in the dirt as he tried to help her stop. "You knew what I meant. Not too high means not too high!"
"You call that high?" 5 year old Jack asked. "I can show you flying! It's so much fun."
She shook her head. "No. I'll fall out."
"I'm right here," Jack said softly, trying to calm her fears. "I'll catch you. Trust me, flying is the best."
A single tear slid down her cheek at one of her first memories of Jack and this swing. She watched it fall and splat on the snow below. Fun. He was always about having fun, so carefree about everything and always trying to bring cheer to the ones he loved. In the end it was fun that killed him.
Her family had no idea how much Jack meant to her. They knew they had been best friends, but they had no idea why she was taking his death so hard. We all lose someone, they said. No one will ever replace Jack, but you can't just keep on like this. She had no motivation to do anything. All hope, all fun, had drained out of her with this loss of her best friend, her boyfriend. No one would ever replace Jack indeed. No one would ever love her like he had, no one would ever show her as many of the good things in life as he had. No one would ever fill that hole that his love left behind.
"Coming," she called to her mom, swearing to herself she would leave all memories of Jack right there in the snow.
The girl sat in her childhood swing, absentmindedly swaying back and forth as she stared at the ground. She didn't care if she got a cold. In fact, these past few days the cold had been more welcoming than usual for some reason. Every time the cold air brought a new flush to her cheeks or the tip of her nose grew numb she swore, though she had no idea why, she could feel Jack's presence. Evasn though she knew he was dead and would never come back. It sounded so silly; she would never tell her mom that was why she moped around outside when her mother asked why she couldn't come inside and be sad.
That stupid stupid crazy boy. Everyone kept telling her, "Jack wouldn't want you to be sad, he was all about fun!" Blah, blah, blah. Fun was what got that idiot killed. Pippa, his little sister who he died saving, told the story all the time. Yes, he did die saving her, but if he hadn't been out there on the flimsy ice messing around and trying to "have fun" in the first place, he wouldn't have been in that situation and he wouldn't have died.
But even if this cold spell was his death, it still didn't explain why she swore she could feel him every time she was outside. "Curse you, Jackson Overland," she muttered under her breath. With each word her breath made clouds in the cold air. "Leaving me here like this." It didn't help that she always chose to sit in this swing too, this swing that so many memories had been made.
"I'm scared," she said quietly.
"Oh come on. It's really fun. You'll see," Jack coaxed, gently pushing the swing so that it swayed softly back and forth.
"Okay. Just a little bit," she relented. He walked back a few steps with the ropes of the swing in his hands and let go. She closed her eyes, then realized the swing was already back in Jack's hands. "Okay, a little higher," she said, becoming braver by the second. They were only 5, and as many times as she had seen Jack have loads of fun in these things, she was always too scared she would fall right out. There were no buckles or belts to keep her in the swing, after all. Jack stepped back two more steps, about to let go.
"Not too high!" she squealed.
"You mean like this?" little Jack asked with a mischievous smirk on his face, a smirk that went with him into his teenage years. The same way he always had a playful glint in those big brown eyes. He ran back with the swing and then let go as hard as he could. She went flying in the air with a scream.
"No! Jack!!! Get me down!" she shut her eyes tightly. It was fun, she had to admit. He ran forward to grab the swing, skidding in the dirt as he tried to help her stop. "You knew what I meant. Not too high means not too high!"
"You call that high?" 5 year old Jack asked. "I can show you flying! It's so much fun."
She shook her head. "No. I'll fall out."
"I'm right here," Jack said softly, trying to calm her fears. "I'll catch you. Trust me, flying is the best."
A single tear slid down her cheek at one of her first memories of Jack and this swing. She watched it fall and splat on the snow below. Fun. He was always about having fun, so carefree about everything and always trying to bring cheer to the ones he loved. In the end it was fun that killed him.
Her family had no idea how much Jack meant to her. They knew they had been best friends, but they had no idea why she was taking his death so hard. We all lose someone, they said. No one will ever replace Jack, but you can't just keep on like this. She had no motivation to do anything. All hope, all fun, had drained out of her with this loss of her best friend, her boyfriend. No one would ever replace Jack indeed. No one would ever love her like he had, no one would ever show her as many of the good things in life as he had. No one would ever fill that hole that his love left behind.
"Coming," she called to her mom, swearing to herself she would leave all memories of Jack right there in the snow.