a r k a d e
// w i n t e r ' s - e m b r a c e /
It was winter. A dark night, deep snow, and branches swaying in stiff chill air. Quietly, I snuck away and made my way into the thicket tucked behind my house, just past the fence that lay twisted in disrepair. Each step found me stepping up to my ankles in a crisp layer of frost.
Eventually, I found myself within the grove, the trees gaunt and skeletal. I barely made out the path of mounded stones and iron tracks. I came to a stop now and looked up through the starfall around me, staring at the sliver of the moon not shrouded by clouds and wind-whipped snow. I lowered my chin to my chest and let my long dirty blonde hair fall down over my face and breathed out a large stream of coiling breath—thick as fog.
I smiled and felt my cold fingers. The moon became unveiled, and the train tracks gleamed. I inspected my fingers—even in the low light, I could tell they were turning rosy from the sting of the air. The numbness was like the edge of a knife on bare skin, something I focused on, and my other thoughts simply became hollow.
I moved my hands down to my sides and felt until my fingers found the button of my pants. I undid the fasten and then plucked the shoelaces of my boots free of the knots I had tied. I kicked off my boots and carefully pulled my feet from my socks while I balanced against the trunk of a towering maple. I undressed in this manner until I stood completely bare from my waist down. I felt the chill in the wind gently caress the warmth of my legs away from me.
I walked towards the rocky escarpment and unsheathed myself from my flannel jacket and the shirt underneath. The soles of my feet felt each rough imbalanced step up to the railroad tracks as the dark squared stones pronged my heels and toes. My feet touched the cold slide of the rail, and I felt the thin layer of frost hug the underside of my feet before melting away to nothing. The tunnel of leafless trees channeled the wind down the tracks and around me. My nudity was freeing despite feeling the air entombing my body’s senses.
I looked at my pale skin in the moonlight. My wide hips, belly still full from supper, and my thick thighs. I felt taller, I felt like I was glowing—looking back, I felt beautiful. I felt the stones begin to rumble and the snow dance with light before I heard the low belching whistle. Black as the devil it came, and I outstretched my arms and spread my fingers wide and cackled to no one.
The train came out from behind the trees, and I saw the first gradient of light jitter up onto the front of my body, glistening with small drops where the snow had landed and melted. I jumped off the rail tracks and noted how pink I had turned. I ran over the stones and stood hunched behind a tree, covering my ears with the flat of my palms. The locomotion passed in only a minute's time, though by the end, the cold had simply become pain. I gathered my clothes and put most of them on, opting to stuff my cold wadded socks and underwear into the back pockets of my jeans. My bare feet struggled into my boots, and then I headed back home.
Once inside the front door, I took all my clothes off again and folded them into my arms. The house was asleep, so I didn’t fear being seen. I dropped my clothes into the laundry hamper and set my boots by the heating vent. I slipped into bed still wet with snowmelt. The slow kneading sensation of heat returning to my limbs and eventually my fingers lulled me into a deep dreamless sleep.
The next day I kept smiling—a secret of my own on my lips.
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