Hello? Is that you, death?
1188 words

I've always wondered what dying felt like. Will it be cold? Will it be lonely? Will the world become nothing but an endless void of darkness? I'm sitting by the edge of the lake, my feet dangling in the water. It's winter now, but the water still hasn't frozen over yet. It's still cold, though, and my feet are beginning to numb. I ignore the pain and stare off into the distance. I can see as far as the large oak tree that my sister, Okoya used to take me out to. Beyond that, everything is a blur. I've never actually been beyond the tree before. Okoya tells me that it's not safe for two little girls to travel out there alone. I keep telling her I'm strong enough to fight anything off, but she always frowns at me and disagrees. I'm afraid I'll die before I get to see the rest of the world. Mama cups my face in her hands every night before I go to bed. She whispers in my ear as she runs her fingers through my dark hair. “Fayle, you mustn't fear death. You mustn't worry about all your questions about the universe. You need to think about the now.” Yet every night, when I lay in my little bed by the crackling fire, her words are hidden by a shadow. The shadow taints my dreams with what-ifs. What if my feet fall off right now? I shiver and pull my feet out of the water, forgetting they've been there the whole time. I rest them in the blanket I brought out with me and lay in the snow for so long my coat becomes soaked. I can hear my sister's voice calling me from our house. Her voice is so quiet, but the wind carries it to my ears. I run over to her, nearly tripping in the deep snow. “Hi.” I grin up at her, my face pale white from the blistering cold. “Fayle, I don't know what we'll do with you. It's freezing out and you're.. Oh I don't even know what you've been doing.” I pat her shoulder and walk past her into the cozy warmth of our little house. Our grandparents built it. Mama's always raving about their great hard work to put together a home for their family and how it's our job to make sure not a single speck of dust settles in it. The house is so small everything is in one room. The kitchen is the largest part of it and we've only got a little rickety stove, a sink and about two countertops. Me and my sister's beds are stacked on top of each other, and my mama's bed is on the other side of the room. Sometimes I sleep with her because I'm afraid of the noises the house makes at night. I know exactly what's making the noises, but it doesn't stop my mind from creating the unwanted thoughts. Okoya and I curl ourselves up by the fireplace, both wrapped in the same wool blanket mama knit us when we were so little. I wiggle my toes in my socks, grateful of the warmth. But I love the cold as well. It hurts so badly but it's comforting. It feels like an aggressive tackle hug. The cold feels like it's desperately grasping onto you, and although Okoya despises the feeling, it makes me happy. Mama's cooking potato stew from the potatoes she'd been saving up since summer. Mama and Okoya have their garden behind the house, and they were so excited when they grew their first bunch. I've never understood their excitement around gardens, except for the fact it gives you food. Sometimes I catch Okoya out by the beans just smiling at them and telling them how perfect they are. We eat dinner early at around 4pm, but the sky is already dark. When we're all done eating, mama washes the dishes outside by the tap. She washes them real quick because she's afraid the water on the bowls might freeze from the cold if she takes too long. Okaya and I sit by the window and watch her crouching down in the snow over a bucket of soap and water. We poke each other and laugh about the shapes the clouds are making. When mama comes back inside, she lights a little lamp and sets it up on the fireplace. We aren't supposed to keep the fire alive during the night, in case of it setting something on fire if we're not watching it. I lay in bed for a while, contemplating some past life decisions, and after about an hour, my thoughts become faint, and I fall asleep.

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The pond is frozen now, and I bring my skates out for the first run of winter. The skates are over worn and torn, and should probably be in the trash. Mama made it so long ago and I've pretty much outgrown them, but I haven't got another pair to switch them out for. I tie the skates loosely, as they're too small to be tied tight. If I did, my toes would snap off. Okoya is sewing some new sweaters for everyone, and mama is peeling some more potatoes, so I'm out here alone. I don't mind the silence. I ease onto the ice, stumbling a bit as I get used to the skates again. Once I'm steady, I push off from the edge of the pond and spin in circles until I can't see anything except the shaky silhouette of the big oak tree. The cold air kissed my pale white skin, leaving it blushed and pink. I don't see the rock in front of me, and the blades of my skates ram right into it. I barrel into the ice, landing in a laughing heap. I hear a loud crack and I think it might have been my back. Next time, I'll watch the ground more. Another loud crack comes right after. And another. It takes me a moment to realize what's happening and by the time I do, I can barely think. I open my mouth to scream, but no noise leaves it. I try to pull myself away from it, but my skate is already under the ice. The cracks get bigger and follow me the more I scramble to move, and eventually, the ice beneath me gives in. I can't feel anything anymore. My whole body is underneath, and I'm thrashing, trying so desperately to pull myself out. After a while, my limbs give in and I can't seem to control anything. I'm unable to breath and I can feel myself slowly slipping away. My thoughts become calm, following the pace of my heart. I never got to go beyond that tree. I was right. My eyes flutter as I keep sinking down. I didn't think the pond would be this deep. Somehow, I'm not panicking. I can feel something reach out and hug me tight. It feels like so much but nothing at the same time. I finally let go, my train of thoughts coming to an end. I guess I know what death feels like now.