Thin Ice

The ice was thinner than I thought.

The ice had seemed strong enough.

But it wasn’t.

The morning was cold, and a blizzard of soft white snow drifted from the heavens. School had been closed and the neighborhood children ran wild. They dashed about throwing snowballs, riding sleds, and trying to build the largest snowman they could. Parents laughed from inside their cozy homes, enjoying the idyllic scene and the memories of their youth when they to used to play in the snow and enjoy the freedom that the falling snow granted them.

That day I had gone out with my neighbor and childhood friend to skate on the stream that ran through the wood behind our houses. The fact that neither of us had ice skates meant little for we were children and our sneakers worked just fine.

We had dashed out of our houses and waded through the snow fighting our way to the bridge that led over the stream and into the forest.

The trees had shaded our path from the falling snow so we made our way to the marshland where the river was widest with ease. We could have simply charged our way through the undergrowth and reached the river in no time, but the adventure was part of the fun.

The marsh had frozen over and become a flat field with patches of ice and a few scraggily cat tails, the perfect place for two boys to enjoy their day off from school.

We tossed a small rock first, then a larger rock, and then found a stick with which to test the ice, and it passed with flying colors.

Shane, my neighbor, went down first, being the braver of the two of us, and once I was sure that the ice wasn’t going to fall away beneath him I climbed down.

The ice was thick and strong and never so much as groaned beneath us.

Until we began to skate upstream.

I skated ahead, hoping to be the first at something even if it didn’t mean anything at all.

The first scream of the ice went unnoticed.

When it began to creek again I paused to look back.

“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked suddenly not so sure that I wanted to lead us onto untested water.

“Don’t be a wimp.” The confidence in his voice was unmistakable. Shane wasn’t afraid of anything.

I smiled and pushed my self further down stream.

The ice screamed louder, more ferociously, warning, threatening, telling me to leave, fighting to hold me aloft.

I looked back once more.

Shane was right there behind me, but suddenly the confidence was gone.

I turned around, slowly, unwilling to lead, unwilling to chance my life on thin ice.

I felt the ice begin to give, and for a moment I dared to hope that it would hold me long enough that I could escape the trap I had unwittingly walked on to. But just for a moment. Beneath me the ice simply shattered, disappearing into a million shards of frozen glass. I remember seeing Shane and the look of terror and horror on his face as the ice gave way.

My hands flew forward trying desperately trying to find anything to keep me from dipping below the icy surface. I scrambled and fought as hard as I could, but my gloves could find no purchase and my feet could find no land. Slowly I began to lose feelings in my legs.

I felt like a movie run at the wrong speed, some motions were too fast, and others seemed to take minutes rather than seconds.

I remember seeing Shane scrambling away, the ice breaking under his feet as he crawled away from the jagged hole that had opened to swallow me.

I don’t blame him for what he did anymore. Though I wonder if had our positions been reversed, would I have done the same thing?

Suddenly somehow I managed to heave my chest onto the ice and drag my feet up behind me.

I dragged my body as far from the hole as I could.

I climbed from my chest to my knees.

I forced myself from my knees to my feet.

Shane helped me walk.

We simply forced our way through the undergrowth, taking the shortest path, the easiest rout home.

The adventure was gone, and I was left cold.

Author's Note

I respectfully ask is that you don�t critique my work or my grammar, but I welcome comments with open arms.

Reviews

[Glassboxes]

Aw... part of me expected the narrator to die but this ending works too. You captured perfectly both the 'adventure' kids feel when they're doing something they probably shouldn't do and the earth-shattering reality... literally. I liked that you were creative with your adjectives describing the sounds the ice makes, rather than just "crackling, or crunching" you personified it which made it more foreboding: "scream".
Yummy.