The Dawn of Autumn

Songs of Innocence (I)

A/N: We now return you to your regularly scheduled Emison.

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Chapter 41:

Songs of Innocence (I)

Alison was five years old the first time she went ice skating. Her grandmother had taken her to Rockefeller Center. She had been a natural. She remembered balancing on the blades and zipping around with the older kids.

She went ice skating in Maine once out on a lake when she was staying with her grandparents' family friends when she was eight. She remembered it being really different than New York. The dark murky waters below the frozen block of ice added an element of danger to it.

Her grandparents had told her not to go out past the warning signs. The big red and white blocky signs were out where the ice was dangerously thin. She remembered wondering what happened to all the animals in the winter time.

She slid around on her skates without a care in the world, staring at the dark waters. She had skated beyond the signs, testing her boundaries.

She remembered the thrill she had gotten when she crossed the line. The rush. The excitement. She remembered the way her skates made scratching noises against the ground. She remembered the precise lines the blades left on the ice.

She didn't hear the crunching noises beneath her feet, but she did remember her grandparents yelling at her that she'd gone too far.

The earth moved underneath her. She remembered the way the ice looked, like perfectly broken little lines that were drawn with a pencil.

She'd watched in fascination, and confusion. It felt like it was happening in slow motion.

The bottom fell out. Then the water rushed up around her as she'd plunged into the frigid lake water.

It wasn't the cold she remembered the most. It was the way the underwater plants had scratched against her tights. It felt like gnarly witch fingers trying to rip her clothing off.

Her head went under. Her body felt like it would sink forever, like she would never be able to come up for air. She remembered thinking she should open her mouth to scream, but when she did the dirty icy water burned her mouth.

The waters were swallowing her whole. She was sure she was going to die, but then she felt a pair of rough hands against her shoulders. Her grandfather had yanked her out of the water and away from the thin ice.

She was conscious. She was crying. But no matter how hard she cried she still felt like she was underwater and she couldn't breathe. She kicked and thrashed and screamed.

The intensity of the cold hurt so badly it felt like she was on fire. She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering. She couldn't get warm.

She had the same exact feeling when she jolted awake in the basement of the hospital in a dark cold refrigerator.

She felt a shooting pain in her head. When she opened her eyes it was pitch black. She couldn't see anything, but she could feel her spine pressed against a hard steely surface.

The frigid air burned her eyes. Her lips were dry. The skin on her hands was so chapped that it was swollen and starting to crack on her knuckles.

She tried to move, but her space was constricted. She lifted her arms, bent at the elbow. She pressed her palms against the solid surface above her.

She was in a box.

No, not a box.

A tomb.

The panic set in immediately. She was trapped in the morgue. If she didn't suffocate she would surely freeze to death in the mortuary cabinet.