Ice

[Published in Fantasque (USA)]

As a young boy I would often imagine that the world was made entirely of ice. I would gaze out of my bedroom window, and instead of bricks and stone, grass and trees, and metal and timber, I would picture a widespread crystalline gleam of sheer ice. At this point I was certain that I could actually smell the vivid coldness of the frozen image outside, and a delightful shiver ran through me. I did not wish to return to the genuine vision of this dull world, but naturally I was compelled to do this, for the rigors of my youth beckoned. But the image would remain inside my head; nothing could take it away from me.
Yes, I have a fascination for cold and ice. I yearn for the wintertime, and during those childhood years I stayed indoors during the heatwave summers that I was forced to endure for months on end, until the first snap of winter crept upon the world. My mother would tell me to wrap up warm, urging me to sink my arms into big dark overcoats and woolly socks, gloves and hats, and this I did; but as soon as I disappeared around the street corner I would break free of my outer clothing, and take in the fantastic odour and feel of the icy atmosphere.
Although I could not, at this tender age, fully understand the psychological truth of my fascination, I did often wonder exactly for what reason I loved the ice. I merely realised that I had to be there, breathing in the frosty air that prevailed at these wintry times; as though I actually belonged there. The ice was my home, my shangri-la; or was it my God? Was some strange figure of divinity dragging my soul into this icy haven? I could not be certain. My objective was merely to exist in the cold aura that the ice exuded.
Now, as an adult, my imagination wanders just as much as back then. I sit by my bedroom window, staring out at the bleak world, picturing a fabulous icy place outside my house, a wonderland of slick whiteness and glittering sheets of frozen snow. Jagged stalactites hang down from the edges of the rooftops, like the fingers of frosty scarecrows; huge crystal blocks stand like giant ice cubes at different junctures of the street; the metal monsters known as motor vehicles slip and screech across treacherous stretches of greasy-clear road; and odd-looking figures with white flesh and the minimum of clothing saunter along the pavement, in apparent enjoyment of the cool climate. And also, and perhaps the most intriguing aspect of all, I see a dark, forlorn figure staring up at my window from a position directly below. All of this I imagine. And for all the years that I have craved the ice, not for one moment have I really understood the true reasons; the blinding reality evades my mind as it always has.
I am determined to learn this truth. But right now I am curious as to the identity of the stranger I discovered in my room earlier today.

I awoke, and after dozing for a while clambered sleepily out of bed. Sophie was still asleep, and I reached across to deliver a soft kiss upon the hot flesh of her cheek. I then walked over to the window and tugged at the corner of the curtain. A frown came to my face as soon as I encountered the sight of a snowless, iceless, joyless outside. Dejected, I slipped out of the room and into the bathroom.
Another day, I thought; another day of work and play, in between gleeful bouts of dreaming. I splashed cold water on my face, ignoring the hot water tap completely. Before leaving the bathroom I looked for some seconds into the mirror above the sink. I tried to picture my features etched into a face of ice, a gleaming white countenance; just like the ones I had witnessed so many times in my personal daydreams. I really sensed that I ought to possess such an icy face, such sleek and shivery flesh. Still with this dream image in my head, I went back into the bedroom, and saw the stranger sitting upon the edge of the bed.
I was instantly taken aback, so much so that I experienced a sudden jolt to my heart, and it began to beat more severely. My fingertips started to twitch and my lip trembled; maybe not in fear, but more in anticipation of a lifelong dream come true. For at this moment I felt a drastic urge to become one with the ice; to arrive at the place where I truly believed that I belonged.
"Who are you?" I asked, the most obvious question and the only one that came to me.
He looked up at me, and I really didn't know what to expect from him, how he would react. He was naked except for a pair of slinky cotton bed-shorts, and the most striking thing about his appearance was that his skin was a glossy white in colour; and he exuded a coldness that told me it was a fine layer of ice that covered his inner body.
"I could ask the same of you," he replied.
But it was my house... wasn't it? I doubted this for a moment, for he appeared to be completely at home here. Sophie was still sleeping, just inches from his slippery frame. How had he got here? Surely he couldn't have slipped out of my daydream and into the real world?
"What are you doing here?" I asked in a more demanding tone.
I noticed him flinch slightly, his cool essence sending a sudden draught over to me. "I live here," he said. "This is my home."
"Your home? I don't think so!"
Then, as my confusion increased and my mind became even more befuddled, I happened to glance over to the window. I spotted immediately that the curtains had been swept apart, and that outside was a shimmering world of ice, whereas minutes earlier this had not been so. I started to question my sanity at this point, at the same time staring in apparent wonder at the marvellous spectacle outside.
"I think you should leave my home at once," said the stranger.
I observed the sincerity in his eyes, and I believed then that it was I who had intruded upon his world. Although how this could have happened is a mystery to me. I required time to think, I had to get away for a while. So I turned and left the room, and padded down the stairs. As soon as I reached the bottom hallway and faced the daunting figure of the front door, I quickly developed an uncanny desire to pull open that door and venture into this vivid ice-world. I was able to actually feel the iciness through the thickness of the door, and my urges seemed to overcome my sensible thinking, and I did indeed turn the handle to go outside.
At once I was greeted by a delightful blast of coldness. It hit me full on, causing a chill to sweep right through my insides. Within seconds I had fully absorbed its iciness, as I stood mesmerised by this awesome scene. Everywhere around there was ice; giant shards in all places. Sloping down rooftops, lying upon the ground to form gleaming, slippery roads, and huge stalagmite pointing erect from out of the glittering ground. It was akin to viewing a magical enchanted kingdom, transported straight from the pages of a children's book of fairy tales. It was exactly as I had imagined in all my daydreams; and never in my lifetime had I felt so utterly contented.
I stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind me. I heard it click as the lock slipped into place, and at this point I realised that I could not get back into the house now. Somehow this did not matter to me. Yes, my wife Sophie was still inside the house, I was aware of this fact; yet I felt that she was secure, despite the presence of the ice-skinned stranger. I just wanted the opportunity to explore this dazzling new world.
My boots crunched on the ice as I moved away from the door, destroying the silence of the morning. But now my heart leapt; for I could not recall putting on these boots. Now I looked downwards at my person, and realised that I was dressed in a long coat of black. Perhaps my memory was playing around with me, for I had no recollection of donning the coat either.
I saw no people on the streets as I observed this daunting ice-world. I was keen to explore, but I didn't know where to begin. I readied myself to depart, and deliberately stood in front of the house, gazing up at the bedroom window. Immediately I noticed the innocent face that belonged to Sophie. She was looking directly at me, and her expression contained nothing but blankness. It was as if she were looking through me, as if I were an invisible entity. I called out to her, but she just drifted away from the window, like a shadow disappearing into gloom.
I slowly wandered along the pavement, all the time thinking, thinking, thinking. Wondering whether this place was indeed real or merely something I was imagining. Wondering whether I was really here, or lying asleep in that cosy bed, with Sophie at my side, and that this was a fantastic dream I was having. Suddenly I slipped on the ice, and almost lost my balance. I managed to regain my footing, and as I did this I heard a sound from back along the street. Looking across, I learnt that the door to my house (or was it the house of the ice-man?) had opened and closed, and walking down the pathway was the stranger with the cool skin.
For reasons unknown to me, I ducked behind some motor vehicle to hide. Cold air blew into my face as I watched the stranger venture along the pavement in my direction. He had dressed himself, and was walking confidently. At this point I realised that this was his world and not mine; and yet I held the nagging feeling that this really ought to be my world. I really ought to belong here.
The stranger passed me without noticing my presence. I allowed him to go by, and then I furtively began to follow. As I kept my eyes on his progress, I simultaneously gazed in awe at the splendid sights that greeted me on this incredible journey. I saw tall buildings made of ice, trees that were remarkably alive and white in appearance, and massive chunks of ice bigger than buses. How long would I be in this place, I wondered. How long did I have to marvel at these wondrous spectacles?
As I followed - like some furtive private eye in some dreadful movie - I wandered past meadows of white, plains of hard ice, trees whose branches glimmered with droplets of snow. The quiet was astounding. It seemed as though my ears were bunged up, but occasionally I would discern the plaintive sound of the breeze rustling through the trees. I was deliriously happy. I was one with nature; one with the ice.
Presently the stranger reached a massive sheen of ice that stretched further than my eyes could observe. I stopped by the edge of the meadow and marvelled at the macabre sight before me. By now I had become accustomed to the whiteness, and therefore it was not the icy ground that astonished me. No, it was what lay beneath the ice. Bodies...
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the stranger had stopped and that he was looking at me. My mind had become muddled, so that I was unable to conceal myself any longer, as I was not able to think clearly. From about twenty feet in the distance he called to me.
"I know you've been following me!" he shouted. "Come on over. Let me show you something."
I trudged over the ice, all the while staring at the collection of trapped bodies that lay beneath the frozen plain. All of them were gazing upwards, flat upon their backs in this horrid place. It was as if they had been deliberately placed there, like corpses laid to rest.
The stranger walked on, and I followed. He had slowed his pace so that I could catch up with him. This I did presently. I had questions to ask of him, but for some insane reason I could not find the words. Still I looked downwards at the sea of faces glaring up through the ice. I detected a certain air of peacefulness about them, as though they all had acquired a contentment in death, for there was no way on earth that they could be alive still.
Suddenly my companion stopped again, so abruptly that I almost collided with him. He looked at me for a second, and then he proceeded to observe the scene below the ice at this particular spot. It was akin to a huge frozen lake dotted with dead people trapped underneath. I looked down, and a terrible murmur tore at my heart. Two figures lay below the surface before him - two figures that I recognised.
Was it really my parents that were frozen beneath this icy waste?
I cried out, a deep shriek that was almost a scream, such was my consternation and dismay. The stranger turned to me with concern.
"Are you alright?" he enquired.
I was unable to reply due to shock, my voice having frozen like the ice that was all around. I merely stood trembling in awe, staring at the familiar features that belonged to my parents.
"These are my parents," he continued, ignoring my plight for a moment.
His parents?
"But they can't be!" I yelled out, my vocal powers returning suddenly. "These are my parents. And how did they get to be here, underneath the ice?"
He studied me with a puzzled countenance, as if struck dumb with his own slice of alarm. Meanwhile my thoughts turned to my mother and father, buried beneath the earth in the local cemetery back home. They had died within weeks of each other, both of natural causes. But this discovery I had made in this peculiar world of ice was decidedly unnatural.
"They died within weeks of each other," the stranger explained. "But they cannot be your parents. Perhaps they just resemble your parents."
I adopted a silence as I gathered my senses. All kinds of thoughts and ideas were milling around inside my head, about this frozen place and the odd happenings of this morning. I imagined many questions but no answers as the two of us continued to gaze down beyond the shimmering stretch of ice.
"I come here every morning," said the stranger, as if in a trance, "just to see my parents. This graveyard is the only place I can find peace. I long to be with them, here beneath the ice. At peace, instead of existing in this horrible world."
"You don't like it?" I asked in surprise.
"No!" he shouted. "It's cold, and miserable." He then came closer to me, and spoke into my ear, his voice having transformed into a whisper. "Do you know something? Since I was a small boy I have dreamt of a world of no ice. Each morning I awake, and sweep back the curtains, hoping that the ice has vanished, and that I can step out into a warm, iceless world. I am fascinated by this. But always it is there, this blanket of white. I wish that I could leave here, to see the green grass, and the colourful flowers, and the beauty of the trees. I want to step freely upon the earth, and not slip and slide on this icy surface. I long to smell the freshness of the air and not the coolness of the freezing wastes. I want to listen to the sounds of nature and not this depressing stillness. I dream of these things all the time. All the time..."

The stranger returned to the house, leaving me to spend time at my parents' 'graveside'. I wanted a chance to think things over alone, this was all too much for me. The stranger appeared to be the opposite of myself. He yearned for an escape from this icy world, and I wished to exist here. But we had lots in common. No more so than possessing identical parents.
Mother was smiling up at me, Father with that familiar cold stare. If only they could speak to me, to explain things. Like how had they come to be here. And also, how had I come to be here.
I am unaware of how long I had stood beside that patch of ice. I noticed two others stepping over the ground, dark figures with white, gleaming flesh. Ice people. They halted at the other side of the lake, presumably having reached the burial place of some loved one. I considered this a good time to leave the graveyard.
As I made my way back to the residential area I spotted other ice-skinned figures emerging from inside houses, their feet crunching upon the ice, creating an odd sound that reverberated all around. They noticed me, and appeared to look me up and down, staring at my pink flesh. Yet none of them spoke to me, or seemed alarmed that I was amongst them. It was as though, strangely, I belonged.
Questions swarmed inside my head. How had I got here? This place was exactly as it was in my daydreams. Had I dreamt and imagined so fiercely and intently for such a long period that I had preternaturally materialised inside this dream image? Indeed, could this be possible? Or was I merely imagining so hard that it appeared as if I was inside the dream? And also, what about the stranger in my house? Who was he? I had to find out!
Oddly the route back to the house was familiar to me. In fact, I realised that the location of the frozen graveyard was exactly the same as the local cemetery back in my own world, the place where my parents were indeed buried. Things were becoming even more curious as I finally stepped into the street where I (or the iceman?) lived. I reached the front door, and cursed to myself, for it was locked. But then I remembered that this ought to be my home, and that I ought to have a key. I plunged my hands into my pockets, and sure enough, I found a jangle of keys. Frantically I pushed the right one into the lock and turned.
It was quiet inside the house, and at first I imagined that the stranger had not come back here. I then thought of Sophie; yes! She was here too. So could it really be a dream? I admit to being dreadfully confused at this point, as I dashed up the stairs and across the landing. I then stopped at the entrance to the bedroom, for I found that I could hear sounds from within. I poked my head around the open door, and a short gasp left my lips.
Sophie and the stranger were making love upon the bed. He was on top of her, moving in a slow rhythm, trickles of cold sweat sneaking down the peculiar white sheen of his back. I was able to see her face upon the pillow. Her expression was bizarre; she was gazing glassy-eyed into space, as if in some weird trance. I doubt that she could see me there at all, she seemed completely out of it. But then a sudden jolt came to my heart, for I realised that something extraordinary had occurred. Her flesh was not the familiar pink that I had always known, but she now possessed the same icy covering that the stranger had.
I fled, utter panic taking over. I leapt downstairs and rushed into the front room, collapsing into a large armchair out of breath. I stared out of the window at the white surroundings, although I was not concentrating on anything in particular. I realised that it was I who was the stranger in this world, even though it was the place of my dreams, my magical kingdom. My thoughts wandered all over the place as I remained there, and I was so absorbed in thought that at first I did not notice the stranger enter the room.
He sat to my right upon the settee, a towelling robe wrapped around his cool flesh. I observed the strange sight of his icy chest rising and falling as he breathed, and the slick appearance of his silvery hair. It was at this point that I realised how beautiful he was, and how much I yearned for flesh such as this.
"Where did you come from?" he asked. "Who are you?"
To begin with I was so confused that I did not know how to answer, the words just refused to come to me. Presently I calmed myself, and proceeded to reply.
"My guess is that I am in some crazy dreamworld," I told him. And then I explained my longing for this icy world, and that my daydreams were the complete opposite of his own. He begged me to tell him about the iceless place that I was used to, and so I did this. His expression lit up, he was so fascinated by the things that I was telling him, and I knew then that his craving was exactly as ferocious as my own.
"But how did you get here?" he asked.
"This I don't know. Again, I'm guessing, but I reckon it's a result of my intense longing. I've dreamt about this place for so long and so often that for some insane reason I've ended up here. My dream has become a reality."
I looked into his eyes, and as I did so, as I gazed stupefied at the whiteness of his skin, I witnessed a bizarre transformation taking place, for the gleam of his flesh steadily changed, until, perhaps thirty seconds later, he had acquired the familiar pink flesh that was similar to my own. And then I looked down at my arms, and lifted my hands to my face, and felt an iciness that caused shivers to run along my bloodstream. I had strangely become one of them; an ice person!
And what's more - to make things even more curious - I could see that the stranger possessed the same features as myself.
"This is weird..." I muttered.
The stranger remained silent, a vast grin spread across his face. I knew then that his time would come soon; his daydreaming would become so intense that he would take the same route as I, and end up in the place of his dreams.

This morning I awoke, and rubbed the tiredness out of my eyes. Sophie was still sleeping, as I got up and lifted myself from the bed. I shuffled over to the window, and pulled apart the curtains. A swoon came to my heart when I encountered the scene outside my home. In front of me was a world of ice. Large snowy towers erect in the distance, streets and rooftops covered in white, the roads shiny and slippery and glittering. Never had I awoken to such a joyful morning!
"Come back to bed, John," I heard Sophie's sleepy voice call.
I turned, and saw her silvery nakedness, the savage shine of her icy skin. And then I saw my own sparkling, cold flesh, and a smile came to my face. I turned to sweep the curtains back together, and it was then that I spotted the dark figure across the street. He was standing silent and motionless, gazing up at the window with a cool stare.
I closed the curtains, and hopped back into bed, wrapping my arms around Sophie. He hadn't made it yet; his dreaming was not as strong as mine was. But he will make it, one day. He'll find happiness in the kingdom of his personal dreams.