Author Information
The Melting Frost
The Melting Frost
By Muriel Palanca
The echo of the double doors resounds against the stringent plaster walls of the school library. An exhausted sigh escapes the scowl on my countenance as I contemplate the grueling task before me. I gaze through the frosted window at the snowstorm raging outside. I imagine the safety and soft serenity that awaits me at my abode in the form of a Temperpedic mattress and an emollient comforter. Everyone else has gone home, and aside from the librarian, I am most certainly alone in my purgatory. The last thing I want to do is research.
It is bitingly frigid in this ninth circle of Dante’s inferno, because the little amount of heat the school can afford has risen like a bat out of hell into the vaulted ceilings. It remains imprisoned in its degenerating surroundings as do I in my futile attempt to bring warm blood to my frozen limbs.
I start on my fruitless conquest to find a reference book of questionable importance to my history paper. Since these books are most commonly found in isle six, my disposition is to start there. Every step I take to my destination is muffled yet heavy as lead and the effort to keep moving is depleting me of my life force. The bodily workings of my corporeal self add nothing to the deafening silence but are still apparent to my ears. Since the silence has left me to nothing but my grinding thoughts, I am stunned and awed at the sight that awaited me in isle six.
There, among the threshold of bound volumes and intellectual tomes was the object that had beheld my deepest affections ever since I met him in history class. Oh, that sweet fallen angel, that beautiful conqueror of my heart! I cannot seem to feel my legs, let alone force myself to move. Is breathing even possible when a glimpse of heaven is no longer a distant star, but something palpable and within my reach? How can I disturb such a peaceful fawn as he gazes so intently, with such diligence and fixation at the open reference book before him?
There is a sound of thunder, roaring waves and an explosion of honest fallacies but none of them betray the hush of this cumbersome moment as I steal away into the next isle. I know I made no noise as I rest my agitated figure against the bookshelf. I feel my confidence, sanity and common sense slip like water through my fingers as my back slides down the rows of books until my bottom reaches the carpeted floor. My heart races in panic as fear strikes me and the need for escape becomes my priority. Erratic thoughts plague me as I struggle to contemplate how on earth I will finish my research if he is in the other isle. I certainly cannot invade his circumference because I will likely betray my carnal cravings and amorous yearnings with small talk and uncoordinated hand movements.
It is a silent requiem to a melodic sorrow to be left with my own self loathing as I am weak and cannot bear the thought of rejection if my feelings were to ever be brought to his knowledge. Is there any redemption from a prison with invisible bars? I surrender to my own piteousness as I decide to wait until he is finished before I continue with my research. I try to placate my thirst for pragmatic use of the little time I have by acquainting myself with the leather-bound volume of Frankenstein in front of me. The electricity coursing through the fluorescent light makes a distinct hum as it flickers like a candle in the wind.
As I pull out the decaying book from its mutual counterparts, a malignant cloud of dust ravishes the surrounding air and wreaks havoc on my delicate nose. I sneeze. It comes with a force stronger than the storm outside and a sound much like a roaring lioness in heat. I curse every single human being that did not pick up this book which allowed it to accumulate so much evil spawn. I hear a shuffle from the other isle and when faced with the choice of fight or flight, I think my only option is to melt into a pathetic puddle of shame.
The vessel of my terrible ecstasy and primal desires appears like a fire in the frozen recesses of my heart. He is bright to me as if I am seeing the sun for the first time, and I feel my face burn as blood rushes into my cheeks. I barely notice that the light has stopped flickering. His eyes pierce into my soul in the loveliest way as his voice forms something of a litany to my hungry ears. “Sorry to interrupt. It’s just that you kind of scared me. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” I gaze back at him and I would imagine that I have a look of utter horror on my face. He speaks again. “Hey, aren’t you in my history class? I’m guessing that you’re trying to do some research for your project too right?” I simply stare at him in awe.
“Well, I found this really great book, but it didn’t really have what I was looking for. You might find it useful though. Here.” He takes two steps towards me and reaches out to me with the book. The neurons in my brain come back to life even though my voice is still in my stomach. My trembling hand reaches towards the book, reaches for something more as well. My skin grazes his and I realize how fleeting eternity can be. It is a moment of purity in which there are no defenses and the heart is vulnerable to the possibility of spring in such a dreary world. The real and the supernatural, the magic and the illusion, the knight and the unsung hero, the princess and the scared little girl…all collided to ignite the dormant burning embers and then receded just as quickly. The connection broke as he let go of the book and left it in my hand. There was a fluttering heartbeat of silence before he spoke again because if I had opened my mouth my speech would have been reduced to a mere utterance of idiocy.
“I have to go. I guess I’ll see you in class then? Later.” As the man of my absurd dreams and stark reality walks away, the glacial temperature of the surrounding area registers in my skin. The shiver brings me back to the present situation and I am saddened by the loss of the warmth that accompanied the heat of the moment.
After an uncertain amount of time, I decide it is time to head home. I check out the book, and as wait, I stare out the window. The storm has ceased and the sun has already started melting the frost. I smile. There is hope for tomorrow.
