Running Cold

Running Cold

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I'm running. The crisp new fallen snow breaks beneath my feet as I run. Every hedge is neatly trimmed; every twig and branch is cut to the right length. The snow topped greenery of the hedges gives this maze a mystic quality. I think I see a wisp of material fly around a corner and I carry on running.

"You've got to be quicker than that," a giggling voice calls out to me.

"Who are you?" I ask back.

Once again she replied with a child like giggle. I turn corner after corner heading deeper into the maze. I stop and slump to my knees gasping for breath. Keeping fit has never been high on my agenda, my natural ability to keep thin allowed for this. The feeling of being spontaneous in running after the dancing blonde has made me feel happy, almost young again.

I had opened my curtains this morning I expected it to be another miserable day in a hotel room. I hate being marooned on a travel assignment almost as much as I hate the magazine I write them for. I felt resigned to this melancholy, but then I saw her. She was dancing, skipping through the snowflakes with her long blonde hair, wearing a white dress and a pure smile. She had looked up towards my window, as if she could sense me watching. She had smiled at me, waved and ran towards the maze. I flung myself into my clothes and had barely finished tying my laces before I had raced out into the cold morning air. The mysterious girl was waiting for me at the entrance to maze and beckoned me with her finger. As I approached she turned and ran into the maze, I blindly followed.

"If you kneel there much longer you'll never catch me," her voice invades my head.

"Who are you? What's your name?" I call out.

"Catch me and I'll tell you," she replies.

I saw the flowing white material of a scarf hanging from a hedge. I slowly approach it; the silky material was warm against the cold air and was rich with her scent of lavender. I tighten my grip of the scarf and start to run again. I turn left and right as I travel deeper into the maze. I had to stop once again as a pair of red shoes hinder my path. As I look down at the carefully placed shoes the same lavender scent fills the air.

"I can run faster without my shoes, can you keep up?" she giggled, waving at me from behind the next corner.

"Please wait."

Before I could finish speaking she was gone, her virginal giggle trailing behind her. Even though I have the body of a forty year old I have the enthusiasm of a teenager and the curiosity of a three year old. I move the shoes to the edge of the path and begin to run once more. For a man filled with hate and bitterness this running is very therapeutic.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" I shout.

"Love to dance, love to run, love to hide, and love to have fun. Love the chase, love the snow, love the patterns that firefly's show," she sings.

I run until I could see her just in front of me. She almost glides over the snow with incredible grace. She laughs and sings as she leads me through the hedges. Eventually she rounds a corner and vanishes altogether. I call out and continue to take what I think is the route she's taken. The snow is falling heavy now. I can't make out her footprints, if there was any there to start with.

In a dazzle of falling snowflakes and morning sunlight I am captivated by the sight of the barefooted, blonde haired girl dancing on a stone slab that sits in the centre of the maze.

"Dance, dance, round and round," she sings.

I clap out a rhythm to accompany her dancing feet. She finishes with a leap from the table and wraps her arms around my neck. She kisses me, her lips cold as ice. I pull back and look down at her black empty dead eyes.

"Oh my God," I scream pushing her away.

"I bet you never saw this coming," she says, "But then again they never do."

Instead of the wild and free dancer of a few seconds earlier, this creature looks down on me, every action calculated and deliberate. It leans back on the slab never taking its eyes off me.

"I bet you're feeling exhausted after all that running. People with bad hearts like you shouldn't over exert yourself," it clicked its fingers and I felt a stabbing pain travel up my left arm, "It's time to take your life back."

Instead of the virginal giggle that had drawn me in its voice was now deeper, the blonde hair was black and the dress was a mass of torn rags. Whatever stood before me now wasn't the vision I saw from my window.

"Take back my life?" I ask between breaths.

"There have been people watching you. For years now they've been watching you waste away, hating life and hating themselves. Life is about betterment, fun and enjoyment. You've been bitter for so long that you've forgotten about the precious things."

"It's not my fault," I start.

"Don't try that life's been harsh to me line. It's not worked for anyone else, why would it work for you? Don't even bother trying to answer that, it won't"

The large black eyes draw me in like pools. I try not to look, but every time I do a sense of dread fills my mind. It clicked its fingers again and the pain spread to my heart. I slump to my knees grabbing at my skin.

"Can I change? Maybe give me a second chance," I plead.

"The thing is, you've reached the point of no return. You've wasted so much of your life. This isn't A Christmas Carol, there isn't going to be a little boy on crutches saying, 'God bless us, everyone,' like in the book. You're not going to wake up in the morning and start buying goose. In fact, you won't wake up."

It clicks its fingers again and my heart gives one last beat as I collapse to the floor. As my vision begins to blur and the excess air escapes from my lungs I can see a blonde haired girl in a white dress, dancing in the snowflakes.