The Frozen Forest
An eerie glow enshrouded a small tree on a dark and chilly night as a girl followed an old, fading path through a forest of gnarled pine. Intrigued by the tree's mysterious light, the girl floated from snowdrift to snowdrift till she stood, enraptured, before it.
The tree's twisted beauty filled her with queer joy; its boughs enticed her with alms of pale green wonder and promises of forbidden bliss, guarded by wicked green spikes. Any thoughts of the path faded away as waves of curiosity filled her mind.
As she beheld the mute cacophony of its frozen needles, the stillness of the night bled into a storm of white; the night's snowy embrace gave way to an intricate web of branches twisted taut, reaching out from a thin rift-riven trunk. Her heart pounded and her pulse quickened as she saw her own young but weathered form mirrored in the tree's skinny spine. Swirling snow covered the world in a blur of white.
Lost in wonderment, she closed her eyes, running her fingers over the sea of sharp needles, feeling their undulating form like endlessly rolling waves. Where once she was sheltered by the carefully carved path, she now drifted on a wild sea of possibility. As a shiver grew deep in her spine she opened her eyes.
A single needle among the multitude ensnared her attention like a rope tightening about her heart. One tiny needle, no more remarkable than the next, though perhaps greener, with its own singular splendor, beckoning her to come. A slim sliver, a mere whisper of green life more magnificent than the grandest edifice, drawing her in with its
hypnotic dance of spiraling snowflakes leading in to its emerald spire, held her transfixed, daring her to abandon illusory safety for the wild wonder of the unknown, to leave fear behind and cast aside the now forgotten path. She could not avert her gaze. Nor did she want to.
Her sinister arm raised itself with a life of its own; the tip of her finger mere moments from the needle's sharp point. An irresistible urge grew within her, and, as the strange desires bubbled over into an unstoppable willfulness, she gave in to her wants and watched with silent terror as her finger eased painfully onto the tip of the needle. She held her breath, an eternity of apprehension between the pounding beats of her heart; she stood, statuesque, peering over the precipice of a cresting wave of fate, as icy fear spread unfelt across her palms. Though she wanted to, though it pained her not to, though she teetered on the verge of madness, she did not shut her eyes.
In horror, she watched the needle pierce the thin, pale skin of her finger; the soft ridges of her fingertip tore apart, revealing virgin flesh once hidden. Without a blink, without a wince, without a sound, she drove herself crashing forward, impaling herself upon the needle.
Her mind became a bloody haze as she reveled in the exquisite agony. In silent ecstasy, the needle drove deeper and deeper, threatening to escape her finger from within. Her voice trapped within, her limbs weak and powerless, her body trembled, unsure if it was pain or if it was pleasure pulsing through the needle's penetrating wound. It etched
patterns sacred and profane inside her as it pushed and pushed and pushed; it burst through.
With a silent moan, she knew morbid bliss as a single scarlet spot crested upon her porcelain skin. The pale green needle, the scarlet red blood, the icy white skin; she gazed upon the rainbow of pain being birthed from within her. As a frozen breeze caressed her wan body, she cried out, shattering the whispered murmur of night. With her maddening scream, she broke away, drowning in pain and ecstasy. Tears fell from pleading eyes. How could such an innocent pale green needle cause such joyful agony?
She staggered back, desperate for the safety of the path now faded from her mind. She longed for bright pain to return, for destructive pleasure to drive her to madness; she longed for the ecstasy of the unknown that came bursting from the needle when it was in her, for the forbidden desires now released upon her soul. She looked back longingly, tears like icicles, body shuddering.
Falling to her knees, she pleaded to the sky; pale stars and an uncaring moon stared back at her, obscured by heavenly clouds. She tried to cry out again, but fear and loss enveloped her heart in their icy embrace; her fading bliss leaking out upon the frozen ground, her pain a distant echo of a memory. She let out a weak, wispy whimper; silent, frozen, desperately reaching.