THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL MEDIA ON OUR LIVES

Social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram have had a profound impact on the way we interact with each other and consume information. They have created new opportunities for…

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Thaw

by Frank Fradella

An iHero/CAA story featuring: The Swan & Permafrost

The pale white disc of the moon hung in the sky like an ornament on some goliath of a tree that had rooted itself in the nearby mountains. The fog had come in, and the moon shone so brightly that it was almost blinding to be there, standing on the frozen surface of Lake Andersen at half-past midnight.

From somewhere within the dense, ethereal mist, he heard the soft scraping of sliding feet upon the ice. His senses strained, but his body retained the nearly fluid grace for which he had become known. The sound grew steadily, until she began to appear through the haze like a shimmering angel, her lithe limbs clothed in their trademark blue and white. The air crystallized around her as she came, and the captured moonlight danced off the snowflakes in a glittering kaleidoscope of color.

She slowed in her approach, and it seemed to him more that time slowed for her, so effortless was her movement upon the ice. Her motion stopped mere inches from him, and they regarded each other with a mixture of amusement and awe.

“The Swan,” she said, smiling, extending her hand. “I almost didn’t see you in all the fog. Your costume is rather effective camouflage in this weather.”

“Hello, Permafrost,” he said, taking the proffered hand and chuckling lightly. “That wasn’t my intent. I’d actually designed the costume so that I’d be easier to see.”

“Maybe some blinking lights?” she said, laughing.

“Then how would people tell us apart?” She arched an eyebrow at him, and his smile widened. “At a distance, I mean.”

“I was a little surprised when I got your message. It’s not every day the Minuteman comes calling with a request from The Swan. How did you manage that?”

“We had an avalanche last month, and he was… how did he put it? ‘In the neighborhood.’”

They laughed together in the odd, silent stillness, and shook their heads in further amazement.

“I never stop getting surprised at the things we consider ‘normal’ conversations,” she said.

“Neither do I. And no matter how many times I see it, I still get this overwhelming sense of wonder when I see him fly.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, nodding emphatically. “I keep looking for the wires.”

“Listen,” he said, his voice growing more serious, “I do want to thank you for coming. With Christmas right on top of us, I know that there are probably family and friends who will miss you.”

“It’s my pleasure. We’ve all heard stories about your annual membership in the Polar Bear Club, when the kids try to drive their cars over the lake. Nobody wants to see you go through that again.”

“So do you think you can do anything? Firm up the ice, maybe?”

“Already done,” she beamed. “You could drive a tank over this ice tonight.”

“Fantastic! Thank you.”

“We’ll see how much you’re thanking me when it still hasn’t melted come May.”

Their smiles broadened once again, and then there was the sound of a muffled exhaust, and the crunching of snow under tires. The Swan’s smile faded and he looked at her with the worry evident on his face.

“You’re sure it’ll hold?”

“Are you sure there are no wires?” she countered.

“Yes.”

“It’ll hold.”

The car was nearly invisible to them in the dense whiteness of the evening, save for the occasional red corona of their brakes and the dim and distant flash of their headlights. For long minutes, they held their breath, marking the progress over the lake’s frozen surface by sound alone, until, finally, the tires met something other than ice, and the hoots and hollers of those within the car reached their ears like the calls of missing phantoms.

The Swan’s shoulders relaxed visibly, and he exhaled. She looked at him, the crystalline flakes still falling around her, and smiled a little sadly.

“Who are you?” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Who are you? What’s your name? Do you have a family?”

The Swan laughed softly. “Where is that coming from?”

“Maybe it’s the weather. You just seem so… isolated up here.”

“I have… friends. But no. No family.”

“Do you…?”

“Permafrost.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t do this. You know I can’t.”

Their eyes locked briefly, and the sadness in her grew. For the first time, he noticed how the air didn’t frost when she exhaled. A function of her powers, no doubt, but the magic of it struck him deeply. They stood in the unmoving fog, mere inches from each other, and there was something wordless and sincere that passed between them. Not quite a promise. Not quite a question. But it was something, and they knew it.

“And again,” she said, “I’m amazed at the things we consider ‘normal’ conversations.”

He nodded, a half-smile touching his exposed lips. He looked out over the ice once more, and extended his gloved hand to her.

“Care to take a turn on the ice?”

She looked at his hand, and followed it past the interlaced feathers of his wrist, up his arm and shoulder, and to the face, still concealed by a mask. For a moment, the ice broke, and she grew so very tired of hiding.

The pale white of her face warmed, and rosy hues appeared on her nose and cheeks. Her hair, once whitened by the rigid, thing of frost, melted into something more golden. And there, in the air before her, her breath warmed the air, and a cone of vapor appeared. She took his hand, smiled, and together they moved onto the frozen lake.

Had they been rehearsing this moment for a year or more, they could not have synchronized their motion better. Her oneness with the ice was a living thing that his grace moved through. They wound their way in broad circles and lazy interlocking shapes. And after an hour, they drifted to a stop beneath an overhang of branches, heavy with snow. They faced each other, their bodies close. She looked above his head and smiled.

“Is that mistletoe?”

The Swan lifted his chin, and laughed. “It’s a pine cone.”

And when he lowered his face to meet her eyes, she kissed him, and time froze. He felt the thaw within her, and some aspect of his mask was removed. They parted gently, slowly, and then embraced for a long minute before they stepped away.

“Merry Christmas, Swan.”

“Merry Christmas, Permafrost.”

THE IMPACT OF SOCIAL MEDIA ON OUR LIVES

Thaw

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