During the long cold nights, she liked to remember summer: the warmth of the sun on her skin, the lake a wavering war of light and darkness, leaves green on the reaching branches of the young trees, birdsong in the air.
In the ice, there were no lake, no leaves, no branches, no birdsong, and no warmth. There was only the cold. The cold forever.
When it first descended on her, wrapping her in fingers of blue, her skin stung and her bones shivered. Now it was nothing. All-consuming numbness.
Did I deserve this?
It was a question she asked herself every day, every hour, every minute, as she stood, statue-still, encased in her ice tomb.
She would give anything just to feel the sun’s warmth again.
But the spell had frozen her until the mountains ground to dust, until the seas turned dry.
Until the sun turned cold.
Word Count: 149
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Enisa for providing the prompt photo!