Maribelle Remembers Ice
Maribelle’s eyes open. This time will be different, she thinks and looks to her right. Sea urchins stick out of the ice cave’s walls, purple spines swaying whenever the wind disturbs them and bumblebees freeze in the air, on the verge of buzzing, but never quite.
Sometimes, she plucks them from still-flight, being careful not to jab their pointy backsides into one of her blue fingers and pops them into her mouth — the one place left of her that’s still warm, the one place never taken. Once the bee starts to bounce around against her tongue and teeth, she opens her lips and the defrosted insect flies out, getting in a few good flits and dashes before slowing down again and eventually stopping altogether. Then there it is, stuck in the air like an image of itself.
She gets out from under the snow blanket and stretches her frosted joints. She blows a few steamy breaths on her knees and elbows. It takes a while, but they get working again. Bend, straighten, flex, stretch.
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Vivid and visceral; I’m right there with Maribelle, and I want her to succeed. Well done.
A wonderful story about having the strength to carry on. Beautifully written and very evocative.
I want her to succeed too. I’m sure she will.
This is a lovely story.
Touching and evocative. I know that Mirabelle will try as many times as it takes to succeed. And I’m with her all the way.
Great story, Barb. You packed a lot of emotion into a small space, and I was hooked from beginning to end. Thanks for sharing this.
Paul
Thanks for reading, Paul!
Moderator,
I hit a wrong button and my comment for Barb ended up here. Can you please move it for me?
Thank you,
Paul
Hi Paul,
We can’t move comments I’m afraid. I’d suggest simply reposting your comment on the appropriate story.
~Rhonda