At The Far End Of The Ice by Sillien

One day, a boy found himself in a curious mood. He strolled up and the down the row of fetish shops at the Dominion, peeking in to see what sort of naughty toys were available. Some made him chuckle, and others made him blush. He had been here before, long ago, but hadn’t really taken the time to thoroughly explore the grounds. People began showing up, and he thought he might enjoy some company.

He began walking back towards the bridge that led to the courtyard. Past the art gallery that he had visited a few days ago. Then he glanced to his left and something in the distance caught his eye, sitting upon a small island, at the end of a frozen pond. It was a statue. He couldn't make out any details, but his inquisitive mind took charge (as it so often does).

He took cautious steps across the slick ice. He had a very good pair of boots on his feet, but the surface had no friction to give, and just a few feet of the way there he lost his footing. The world spun, and his elbow struck down hard. A grumble escaped him, wondering aloud whether or not he should just turn back. It was just a statue, after all. For all he knew it had been there for a long time, and would probably be there when then chill left the air and the pond wasn't trying to fracture a bone or two.

But it was there right now, and something looked a bit off about it. Curiosity snared him and would not let go. He rubbed his sore elbow as it kept reminding him that walking across this ice would probably earn him a concussion. So on hands and knees he crawled towards the tiny island across the pond.

Finally, after several minutes, he pulled himself up and collapsed on the snow. The cold was in his blood now, his clothing damp, and there he stayed shivering for a bit. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed. And, now that he finally found himself here, he glanced up.

She was much larger than he was, larger than she appeared from the other side of the ice. She towered over him, making him seem so small in comparison. Such a grand lady, so tiny a man. But what really struck the boy was just how sad this lady appeared. As a lady who had suffered some loss. One who was most unhappy, and it filled him with sadness too.

He did not know what he could do to help her, so he knelt there, glancing up at those eyes. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, being there might be enough to offer her the littlest bit of comfort. He even took off his clothing and suffered the unforgiving winds for her. His bare knees dug into the chilly snow. If she was to be in such pain then so would he, he thought. His company was all he had to offer, and he gave it to her for what felt like a brief eternity.

He watched the whole time as people came and went in the distance. Very few were left now, and he had to retire for the evening. A promise was made to return, and he did. The boy would visit many times during the season to just be with her through whatever grief it was she felt. When the season did finally change, and the pond was much easier to navigate, he arrived at the island to find that she was no longer there. All that was left was the hope that he had been of some help. That maybe his suffering had not gone unnoticed, and some measure of her sadness had been lifted from her slumped shoulders. The boy was very happy that he did not wait. And he knelt, on soft grass this time, and he cried. It wasn’t easy to have something of such beauty leave his life. But knowing her in such despair was better than never having known her at all.