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Across the frozen pond

A short mystery story

By Alice K.S.Published 3 years ago 4 min read
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Her elbows rested on the table with both palms supporting her head. There she was, silently crying while her teardrops delicately fell on her little dog’s back softly sleeping on her lap. “Why, but why?” She felt sad and confused from knowingly not understanding exactly what she had accepted.

Earlier that morning she woke up with a feeling of anxiety working her body. She well knows how the marvels of nature calms her down and brings her contentment. It is her safe space; a space that can’t be cheated by anyone nor anything. Plus, her furry friend undoubtedly needed his early morning walk. Since she likes it when things are well put, she pulled up her bed sheets nicely and fixed the cushions on top before she hurried outside. The brightness of the daylight opened her eyes, for the sun was reflecting on the snow all around. Puppy was running his best life before her while she was smiling back at him. “You are such a cutie! I love you!” she laughed out loud. The cool air was clearing out her mind thus allowing space to be sharp for a big project she was about to accomplish that day. And just at that moment, Mr. Boroff happened to drive by with his electric car. If it wasn’t for the sound of his wheels rolling on the snow, she may have not turned around to wave at him.

From Elisa’s house, he lives across from the pond. Always has the fog been so dense there that no one ever witnessed seeing the trees peaking on the other side. Crossers are advised for in winter, when frozen, although it should take 8 minutes by foot to reach to the opposite shore, there may be undetectable points of thin ice sneaking here and there and anywhere.

Today, he was wearing his classic pair of orangey brown leather gloves. She thought; he must be on his way out for something now, because if he was on his way back his car would have warmed up and he would have had removed them already. Although she knew this was an irrelevant detail, she still made a note to herself about it.

Mr. Boroff is a retired man and as always he makes himself available to give a free hand around the neighborhood. “Good day Elisa! Oh well look at you always dressed up so happy!” “Yes well thanks, it was unexpected to hear your voice this morning.” she said as he immobilizes the car. “The pleasure is for me dear. How are your paintings going along?” The question was clever for it will be a delightful surprise when in the future, she is to be prized for the painting she was about to create later on that day. “Always keeping myself on my toes, one must stay inspired you know.” “Yes, yes, exactly, exactly. Hey, perhaps you would like to take a look at this.” As he reached to the suitcase resting on the front passenger seat she replied: “Sure, you got me all wrapped up already.” He first pulled out his phone and then reached deeper to uncover a thin little black book.

From the gold font of the slightly engraved softcover she read the title: “On a Tabloid”. It all looked so perfectly new, she thought perhaps it has never been read. “You see dear, this book tells about the story of a very dear friend of mine. It contains details of my buddy's personal life, and always has that person intended to be very private you see.” “Yes, I see.

Elisa has the habit of always paying half of her attention to the present moment while investing the other half in what she calls The General Moment. She made a painting about it once which had greatly helped her launch her artistic career. It was an abstract scene with dashes of blue, sparkles of white, shimmers of gold, drizzles of gray. She hadn't known exactly what she had painted on that canvas until afterwards, when she realized it was water. “It is a calm sea where nothing yet is moving.” she once said.

Excuse me?” he asked. “I said – Yes I see” “But I swear dear I just heard you whispering about a calm sea?” “Oh, no, no, that was just in my head, I mean, yes, but that was supposed to be said only in the past. And please Mr. Boroff, I would appreciate if you could always consider everything I say not by its literal sense.” “Of course Elisa, of course.” He smirked and continued. “Listen Elisa, I do want to point out to you an important fact.” “Wouf! Wouf!” “Hush puppy, Mr. Boroff has something important to say. Go on Mr. Boroff, what is it?” “Well you see, it was here on this pond, here is where my friend found inspiration for this book…” He said calmly, as he reached his hand out and handed it to her. “…and you’re a cleaver girl so I thought it might inspire you for the subject of your next painting.” “Oh well thank you very much Mr. Boroff. How caring it is of you to think about me this way. I sure will care to remit it back to you intact.” I feel like I’m on a mission now, she thought. “Have a good one dear! It’s always a pleasure to see someone around here” he said, as he gently removed his gloves. “Take care Mr. Boroff, see you next time.” She obviously got a good read at it as soon as she reached home.

She was leaning on her desk with both palms supporting her head. There she was, silently crying while her teardrops delicately fell on her little dog’s back softly sleeping on her laps. “Why, but why?” She felt sad and confused from knowingly not understanding exactly what she had accepted...

The Little Black Book - Painting by KarmSpi Art

Mystery
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About the Creator

Alice K.S.

I once believed I was a gifted ballerina.

She beseeched me for something to live for,

so I started painting it for her.

Welcome to my wordly world!

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