Butterflies of Ice
Dara stood on the weathered, crumbling sidewalk, her pointed chin raised toward the shimmering eyes of the watchful night sky as a clawing wind tore at her ginger curls and slashed the pale, incandescent skin exposed above the collar of her coat. Behind her, the cracked, pitted street was silent save for the occasional car rolling past, though they too seemed unnaturally hushed as each navigated the cavernous potholes scattered across the narrow strip of asphalt. Most shops huddled along the scar-like road were fading into darkness as one by one the lights that had illuminated the yawning front windows winked out. An aura of death soon enshrouded over the area. Still, Dara remained motionless while her sightless eyes caressed each crimson letter and her memory took her back to the horrifying evening that had begun so perfectly with fat snowflakes floating on the heavy air like millions of milky-white butterflies.
Half a decade earlier, Dara and Glen had clutched each other's glove-encased fingers and had gazed up at the same slanted shop sign, Books 'n Nooks, above the same windowless storefront. As bits of ice tangled in their eyelashes, the two had pushed open the door of golden wood and tiny square-shaped windows, and had entered hand-in-hand into a child's fairy- dream. Tendrils of oven-baked air, seemingly dancing straight from a cookie sheet full of gingerbread men, wrapped around the couple and they paused to savor the familiar sensation. Though Dara and Glen had discovered the store during their undergraduate years while searching frantically for a place besides the beige walls of their dormitory rooms in which to study, they had never quite gotten used to the unreal quality of the small book store. A continuous mural covered the four walls, each portraying fey creatures, thin and ethereal, climbing and hiding behind the painted ribbons of grass and broad, rainbow leaves. At the crease where the walls joined the sapphire ceiling-sky, sprigs of silky, jade vegetation veiled strands of white Christmas lights, every bulb representing the unearthly glow of a fairy. Lining these enchanted walls were small wooden tables with matching chairs, all made from the luminescent wood that framed the front door. An ornate bronze lamp, covered with a soft green, tasseled shade, was beaming welcomingly on every table. Rows and rows of bookcases filled the middle of the great room, all tightly packed with shiny, new books, and carved with a lacy vine pattern. Miniature spotlights, two on each shelf, made vivid a patchwork of book-cover hues. As Glen led Dara to their favorite corner, Dara glanced back at the elderly woman working the old-fashioned cash register beside a cappuccino maker and a case of pastries, and mouthed with a grin, "Tonight is the night!"
Sitting down, Dara had taken off her gloves and rummaged through her purse, pulling out a pen, her novel, and a pad of paper. She then proceeded to pretend to take notes, laughing inwardly at Glen, who had not moved since taking off his own gloves. She knew he was going to propose-she recognized the nervous rigidity of his narrow shoulders. Mentally she sighed. It was about time considering they had been seeing one another since high school and then had even went to the same college to pursue degrees in English.
"Dara," Glen had croaked as she adjusted the lamp over her workspace. He grimaced and tugged at his ear. Dara glanced up and crinkled her nose questioningly. She waited in anticipation of what he would say next.
"Dara," he tried again and this time he was successful. The corners of his mouth kicked up as he stared at her and placed one fist on the table. Opening his fingers slowly, a platinum ring with sliver of diamond appeared and glistened against the satin sheen of his skin. With out pause, she reached over her notes and plucked the ring from his palm.
"Yes," Dara replied with a grin. Too moved to say anything more, the two were content to stay quiet the rest of the evening. It was the last word Dara ever said to Glen.
A mere half hour later, Gladys, the owner, baker, and cashier for the shop, patted Glen's head with grandmotherly affection and let the couple know she was closing up. As they gathered their things, Dara unexpectedly let out a nervous giggle. Envisioning the emotion-filled evening ahead, complete with phone calls to both sets of parents, Dara's giggles soon flooded the still air around them. Glen frowned at her and asked her what was wrong but his question only made her laugh harder. Shaking her head as more giggles tumbled out, she grabbed his hand and dragged him through the aisles and out the door. Dara was nearly hysterical as she reached Glen's battered Taurus and by then Glen was laughing as well. As the car pulled out of its parking space and headed toward the intersection, the two quieted until only their labored breathing sounded in their ears.
When the light had flashed green, Glen moved forward. As if appearing through a slit in space, the silver truck speeded through the red light and slammed into Glen's door. Metal shrieked and groaned; glass screamed as it shattered. The sour stench of gasoline burned in her nostrils. Scarlet flashed before Dara's eyes as moisture rained on her face. A void rose to engulf her and she had seen nothing more.
The next day, they had told her that some artery in Glen's neck had been severed by the fatal edge on a piece of the windshield-they who had no face. They had told her that her that her clothing had been saturated with blood it had; her blood which had mingled and mated as they had before, skin to skin. They had told her that she was permanently blind, that the black would never recede, not even for butterflies of ice.
Surfacing from her memories, Dara dropped the hand that had unconsciously risen to her cheek and slid the platinum band from her finger for the first time. In the darkness, she saw a remembered glitter, dulled by years of black, and rubbed her thumb over the smooth metal of the ring. Her sigh, filled with regret and resolve, roared in her ears as she heard Glen's voice, whisper-soft echo in her mind, "Let me go." Lifting her face again to the vigilant night, the ring slipped between her fingers and clinked on the broken cement below.
Dara stood on the weathered, crumbling sidewalk, her pointed chin raised toward the shimmering eyes of the watchful night sky as a clawing wind tore at her ginger curls and slashed the pale, incandescent skin exposed above the collar of her coat. Behind her, the cracked, pitted street was silent save for the occasional car rolling past, though they too seemed unnaturally hushed as each navigated the cavernous potholes scattered across the narrow strip of asphalt. Most shops huddled along the scar-like road were fading into darkness as one by one the lights that had illuminated the yawning front windows winked out. An aura of death soon enshrouded over the area. Still, Dara remained motionless while her sightless eyes caressed each crimson letter and her memory took her back to the horrifying evening that had begun so perfectly with fat snowflakes floating on the heavy air like millions of milky-white butterflies.
Half a decade earlier, Dara and Glen had clutched each other's glove-encased fingers and had gazed up at the same slanted shop sign, Books 'n Nooks, above the same windowless storefront. As bits of ice tangled in their eyelashes, the two had pushed open the door of golden wood and tiny square-shaped windows, and had entered hand-in-hand into a child's fairy- dream. Tendrils of oven-baked air, seemingly dancing straight from a cookie sheet full of gingerbread men, wrapped around the couple and they paused to savor the familiar sensation. Though Dara and Glen had discovered the store during their undergraduate years while searching frantically for a place besides the beige walls of their dormitory rooms in which to study, they had never quite gotten used to the unreal quality of the small book store. A continuous mural covered the four walls, each portraying fey creatures, thin and ethereal, climbing and hiding behind the painted ribbons of grass and broad, rainbow leaves. At the crease where the walls joined the sapphire ceiling-sky, sprigs of silky, jade vegetation veiled strands of white Christmas lights, every bulb representing the unearthly glow of a fairy. Lining these enchanted walls were small wooden tables with matching chairs, all made from the luminescent wood that framed the front door. An ornate bronze lamp, covered with a soft green, tasseled shade, was beaming welcomingly on every table. Rows and rows of bookcases filled the middle of the great room, all tightly packed with shiny, new books, and carved with a lacy vine pattern. Miniature spotlights, two on each shelf, made vivid a patchwork of book-cover hues. As Glen led Dara to their favorite corner, Dara glanced back at the elderly woman working the old-fashioned cash register beside a cappuccino maker and a case of pastries, and mouthed with a grin, "Tonight is the night!"
Sitting down, Dara had taken off her gloves and rummaged through her purse, pulling out a pen, her novel, and a pad of paper. She then proceeded to pretend to take notes, laughing inwardly at Glen, who had not moved since taking off his own gloves. She knew he was going to propose-she recognized the nervous rigidity of his narrow shoulders. Mentally she sighed. It was about time considering they had been seeing one another since high school and then had even went to the same college to pursue degrees in English.
"Dara," Glen had croaked as she adjusted the lamp over her workspace. He grimaced and tugged at his ear. Dara glanced up and crinkled her nose questioningly. She waited in anticipation of what he would say next.
"Dara," he tried again and this time he was successful. The corners of his mouth kicked up as he stared at her and placed one fist on the table. Opening his fingers slowly, a platinum ring with sliver of diamond appeared and glistened against the satin sheen of his skin. With out pause, she reached over her notes and plucked the ring from his palm.
"Yes," Dara replied with a grin. Too moved to say anything more, the two were content to stay quiet the rest of the evening. It was the last word Dara ever said to Glen.
A mere half hour later, Gladys, the owner, baker, and cashier for the shop, patted Glen's head with grandmotherly affection and let the couple know she was closing up. As they gathered their things, Dara unexpectedly let out a nervous giggle. Envisioning the emotion-filled evening ahead, complete with phone calls to both sets of parents, Dara's giggles soon flooded the still air around them. Glen frowned at her and asked her what was wrong but his question only made her laugh harder. Shaking her head as more giggles tumbled out, she grabbed his hand and dragged him through the aisles and out the door. Dara was nearly hysterical as she reached Glen's battered Taurus and by then Glen was laughing as well. As the car pulled out of its parking space and headed toward the intersection, the two quieted until only their labored breathing sounded in their ears.
When the light had flashed green, Glen moved forward. As if appearing through a slit in space, the silver truck speeded through the red light and slammed into Glen's door. Metal shrieked and groaned; glass screamed as it shattered. The sour stench of gasoline burned in her nostrils. Scarlet flashed before Dara's eyes as moisture rained on her face. A void rose to engulf her and she had seen nothing more.
The next day, they had told her that some artery in Glen's neck had been severed by the fatal edge on a piece of the windshield-they who had no face. They had told her that her that her clothing had been saturated with blood it had; her blood which had mingled and mated as they had before, skin to skin. They had told her that she was permanently blind, that the black would never recede, not even for butterflies of ice.
Surfacing from her memories, Dara dropped the hand that had unconsciously risen to her cheek and slid the platinum band from her finger for the first time. In the darkness, she saw a remembered glitter, dulled by years of black, and rubbed her thumb over the smooth metal of the ring. Her sigh, filled with regret and resolve, roared in her ears as she heard Glen's voice, whisper-soft echo in her mind, "Let me go." Lifting her face again to the vigilant night, the ring slipped between her fingers and clinked on the broken cement below.