Only Love Can Melt a Heart of Ice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
The sufferings of a beautiful ice statue as she melts.

Submitted: July 13, 2016

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Submitted: July 13, 2016




The party was large, and full of smiling men, women, and children, but in the corner was a statue of ice, staring with indifferent eyes at the joy and warmth around her. They had placed her in the corner so that she would be opposite the fireplace, and therefore stay frozen, but she felt the heat. It was the sort of heat that doesn’t come from licks of flame; she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was or where it came from. But it was there, and it hurt as it melted her away. She could feel herself shrinking, turning into lowly, inferior water. She could neither speak nor scream as the heat stole her body away, though, and so she stood there in the corner with a pretty smile on her cold lips.


A little girl giggled as she ran past her. Oh, that giggle! That giggle sent pangs of pain through the ice statue, for it radiated cheeriness and––and warmth. The statue knew where the heat came from then, and yet she could not stop it. She felt the tip of her nose drip away from her, but she could not reach out and freeze it back, and so she stood there in the corner with a trapped smile on her cold lips.


An old man leant against the wall next to her and sighed. Oh, that sigh! The hot air made her tremble with fear and agony inside as it engulfed her. Her beautiful tiara turned to liquid and trickled down her cheeks, as if she was crying. And then the man left, and mingled in the crowd, but she stood there in the corner with a tortured smile on her cold lips.


A young man led a lady over to her. He carried a small needle. The man breathed steamy air onto the statue’s breast to make it soft, and then he drew a heart on it with the needle and wrote both of their names inside. The lady simpered and kissed him, and the two walked away. That was the final blow. The ice statue was dying. The heat had pierced her heart, and was slowly killing her; she could no longer smile, for their breaths had melted her lips away. She began to shake as her feet turned to water, and then her legs gave way, and she tumbled into her hostess’ arms; she was dragged outside and thrown onto the pavement. She suffered the pain in silence; it was as if a thousand knives were burying themselves in her as the night air sang her a final lullaby. And then she was gone.


© Copyright 2019 Anna C. P. Moore. All rights reserved.

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