Her Frigid Heart (short story)

It’s very cold

The endless Winter surrounds her

Her moth bitten ash coat keeps her alive

But not warm

But she is kept alive

In her frozen entirety

By the icicles driven through her heart

Bloodless sacrifices keep her from needing warmth

The chill is already within her

And it’s not a defeat

For there is no pain

Only numbness


She walks

Home to home to beg

For the few sporadic bursts of warmth

Sporadic as human compassion

Doors open for short period until they see what has come

One short blast of body warming heat later and they shut the door

It’s ok

Empathy is not something that was expected

But the memories of the fleeting warmth cling to her

And sustain her


Sometimes, wavering on indecision

The door stay open for longer than expected

In those bittersweet times, heat surrounds her being

Letting her imagine what it would be like to be

Submerged in heat for more than quick moments

But as the fires thaw her body, they thaw the icicles in her heart

Pain pierces her relief as her numbness becomes slightly undone

But it’s ok

She doesn’t expect friendliness for too long

She never hopes for her heart to truly heal

By the way of thawing the cold within her

And the stitches that would be needed for her heart if finally it could escape the cold

Because the scars in her heart caused by the ripping remains of what froze her

Would need an outsider’s aid to keep her alive

And her faith in human compassion is as cold as the rest of her


It’s ok

She was used to the fleeting heat

And the endless cold that followed her


Until one night

She knocked on a door

A door that wasn’t different from any of the others she’s knocked on

But when he opened the door

He stared at her in shock and horror

Not the horror she expected though

It was horror at the cold within her

The ice that had encased her

She felt dazed by his compassion and sympathy

Especially when he ushered her in

Still in shock

She stood in the hall awkwardly

He guided her to his fireplace

Gathered blankets around her


She warned him

That her cold went deep

That her pain once freed would need

A great amount of attention

And that she could die if his warmth unfroze too much of her

Only to be kicked back into the cold

They talked

She revealed her inner scars

And he wasn’t frightened away

Even though he never said the words

He seemed to indicate that he would sing her into sleep

patch her scars

and she fell asleep to his voice filled with promise


So she thawed

Her numbness gave way as the deep scars within her chest

Opened fresh and bleeding from the warmth around her

At first he tended to her while she was sleeping

But the scars were deep

So much more serious than he could ever have expected

And the pain that should have awaken her

Was blocked by her belief that she had found somewhere safe

That she was going to be ok

So she bled


She woke from her slumber with bone quaking shivers

And searing hot pains coming from within her

She realized she was outside again

Then winter just as cold as before

In fact

It was colder because her open wounds no longer possessed numbness

Only the pain of being open to the air

She tried to move on like she had previously

Home to home but not staying long

But her heart wouldn’t heal

The blood kept the icicles that would provide her numbness

From forming again

More and more she bled as she tried to keep going

She wasn’t ok anymore

Finally she collapsed into the snow

Strangers walked by promising that eventually she would get help

But she only lay dying in the snow

Regretful of the hope that had gotten her here

And haunted by the dread the filled her

A dread that told her



You’ll never be ok again

She saw him at the bus stop: a short story

She saw him at the bus stop, probably waiting for the same bus as her. She eyed him, assessing his black spiky hair, coal-black eyes and rounded pink lips. In all honesty, she thought, he is pretty attractive. She guessed from his laptop bag and obvious Chinese descent that he was a student from the college campus that she lived on with her family. The community that she lived in was pretty mixed but there weren’t a lot of Asian men, save for the ones who were going to the college or members of the community who were already married and rarely seen without their wives.
She glanced at him again, a little hesitant to approach. Her experiences (and the experiences of friends like her) told her that most Chinese guys were even less into black women than white guys. White guys had their fantasies of booty shaking girls while Chinese men, it seemed, just ignored the presence of any womanly essence or personal relativity encased in black skin. However, it’s not like she had anything to lose. Her batting average at a continuing acquaintance after a short-lived meeting was so low that she wasn’t too invested in feeling hurt after a more-than-likely rejection.
She moved closer to him, trying to get his slight attention since his headphones would block out anything she said and the words would fall on the ears of the people around her without any reception. Hey, she said, and waited as he took of his headphones, glancing at her.
“I like your laptop bag. Where did you get it?”
He replied with a glimmer of personal connection, “Oh, I actually got it as a gift”
There the conversation started, the easier task for her since starting things were her forte. It was continuing them, preserving them that seemed to be the problem. True to form, the conversation carried as far as the arriving bus. Still attempting to keep the conversation alive, she talked with him about her need for a laptop in her major as they got in line to pay the bus fare. Unfortunately when the fare was paid and she sat down, he nodded in her direction, passed the open seat next to her, and continued to a seat in the back of the bus.
She sighed, put on her headphones, and used the music to drown out the feedback of her latest rejection.



(Let me know what you think!!)