Sometimes snow burns like burning coals.
Ingrid lifted her bare foot, rubbed it briefly, and then continued walking. But it was impossible to ignore the messages flowing from her body. A crippling stabbing pain paralyzed her legs. Pain mixed with desire can completely distort the situation. Every step made her want to scream. She didn't, because it would waste precious seconds.
Will we have time again, purple girl...
The words echoed close to her, and for a moment, she thought he was calling her. That strong voice that always gave her complete peace. But no, he was waiting on the other side. Far away, like a child's path into the world. She took a deep breath and quickened her pace, as if to show the falling snowflakes that they wouldn't stop her. They wouldn't succeed. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, wanting to shield herself from the frost as much as possible. Her ears, too, were slowly losing their sensitivity.
She couldn't remember exactly when the straight, grassy road had become covered in snow. She was practically daydreaming from exhaustion, and in dreams, anything was possible. So the sudden snowstorm didn't surprise her in the slightest. Besides, what good could surprise do? Surprise was Fear's worse sister. And she was supposed to get to the other side as quickly as possible. She didn't even know if it was already too late.
The mountain was growing steeper and steeper. It had the shape of a huge cone, and the road was twisting more and more with each passing minute. Someone was inviting her into this labyrinth where there was no guide. Someone had rolled the dice in a game of her life. He was waiting below. He wouldn't be there forever; he might be gone soon. A few moments more, and the soldiers of her psyche would surrender completely.
A shape loomed before her in the distance, like a leaf falling from a tree. Why had she thought of leaves in this freezing cold? She hated their rustling, hated their mocking passivity and indifference, their lack of problems that couldn't be solved. She hated that they never cried.
The figure seemed to be walking towards her. There was something vile in that slow gait, as if it were ashamed of its baseness before the trees. She had once seen such shame in a miller caught stealing a cow. Ingrid wasn't afraid of him; she always walked in the forest at night. Besides, her situation couldn't get any worse. The gentleness that flowed from her nature finally overcame all barriers. With a bold step, she approached the figure, which was still approaching with a staggering gait.
"Haven't you seen the young man with red eyes, Grandpa?
" "I haven't seen anything for a long time."
Ingrid looked under his hood and saw that he had no eyes beneath it. The sight was so horrifying that she lowered her gaze. Further examination revealed that the figure was limping on one leg, and the fingers of his left hand were twisted in all directions. The crippled old man, however, walked forward, as if he knew something awaited him worth breaking all barriers. As if he knew something Ingrid didn't.
She gently touched his wrinkled face, on which life had left its mark. He had often gone to bed hungry. She began to gently run her thumb across his cheek. It seemed he hadn't felt the touch of a woman's hand in a long time, because she saw a happy smile on his face. The smile of someone who knows what's important in life and who has just received it. She had laughed like that herself when she'd first been kissed on the hand.
"On the nearest path, turn right and you'll find what you're looking for...
" "How so?"
As soon as she asked the question, she felt the black-hooded figure no longer beside her. Her eyes widened and she realized she had probably been asleep for a few seconds. She lay on the ground, covered in snow. Her legs trembled with cold, slapping against each other with a faint sound. The bells in her head faded instantly. A few more minutes, and she would have fallen asleep there forever.
She quickly got up and began slapping her cheeks to regain her composure. When sleep begins to overwhelm us, we must exert ourselves as much as possible. So she jumped to her feet, trying to forget the strange event. To her surprise, however, next to her own barefoot footprints were the prints of old sandals that had peeked out from under her black robe in her dream.
Wasn't life such a long dream?
Nothing was certain anymore; the world began to overwhelm her, but remnants of memory were seeping into her consciousness. The remnants of memories urged her to act. She moved on, speaking to herself with words that gave her strength. She said them aloud to avoid falling asleep on the way. When she looked to her right, she saw the road the figure seemed to have mentioned. Without hesitation, she simply turned and began walking forward.
The snowstorm abated instantly, which alarmed Ingrid even more. She felt she was entering a place she should have stayed away from. The straighter and safer the road became, the more fear gripped her. The silence that enveloped the entire area was the most ominous noise in the world. She had to keep moving forward. It had to be here somewhere.
A castle. A huge castle. Where had it come from? There were many castles in this area, but she had never seen this one before. Towers like that weren't exactly built in these parts. Moreover, it wasn't covered in snow at all. It looked as if someone had pasted it there, like colorful pictures on a shop window.
Ingrid approached the large gate slowly. Something told her the door would be open and she only needed to push harder. She placed her hand on the dark surface and pushed. It was lighter than she thought, as if it wanted to be passed through. It was inviting.
As she entered the courtyard, it felt as if she had been here before. It was impossible; she would have known that, but everything was utterly familiar to her. Every step she took seemed to echo some memory. She knew she had to turn left now to be inside.
There was no living soul around. No one. A complete silence reigned, which disturbed her more than if a hundred servants were bustling about. There was no sound except her footsteps. Slow, steady knocks. The door to the center opened very slowly before her. Its creaking sound was inviting, like an old woman offering her red apples. Red, like his eyes.
Will we still have time, purple girl…
Suddenly she heard the sound of horses. Against the overwhelming silence, it was like lightning streaking through the night sky. She turned her head, searching for the sound and realized it was coming from below. As if a troop of riders were racing beneath the floor.
She began walking, feeling as if she were flying. She didn't even need to move her legs to move forward. The corridor she'd been unconsciously in for some time began to widen, like the ripples created by throwing a person into it.
In the middle of the terrifying corridor sat a little girl with blond hair. In her hand, she held a red ball, which she tossed up every now and then. Her small hands made a hollow sound as they touched it. She looked at Ingrid curiously, and then, as if she had already learned everything about her, she looked back at the ball.
Ingrid took a few steps forward and examined the girl. She looked just like her when she was little. She still remembered the reflection in the spring when she first discovered she was doing what she was doing. She also had hair as light as snow and that proud, curious look in her eyes. She probably collected all sorts of insects in the summer, too.
Ingrid approached the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Haven't you seen a young man with red eyes?" she asked, her voice brimming with tears.
"Why do you have strange feet?" the girl replied, as if she hadn't even heard the question.
Ingrid looked down and, instead of her beautiful feet, saw two bloody pieces of flesh. It was strange, because she didn't feel like she had them at all. It felt like she was flying.
"It's snowing outside. Very cold.
" "I was outside. There's no snow. You must have dreamed it, Ingrid."
Ingrid looked at her, her eyes wide with astonishment.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, speechless, momentarily forgetting why she'd come here.
"I'm Ingrid too. And the red eyes are far away. Don't waste time, just play ball with me.
" "I have to find him. I won't sleep until I find him.
" "I'll help you if you play with me."
Ingrid felt compelled to play. She knew playing ball could end well for death. It was the most insidious game in the world. It was so enjoyable, so wonderful, that many people forgot they were only supposed to play for a moment. They stayed here forever. They forgot everything, their loved ones, who they once were. They just wanted to play here and laugh. That's why good girls weren't allowed to play ball.
But Ingrid had always been disobedient, never listening to adults. The boys liked her for that, and also for not being afraid to go into the late-night cafe. And a nightclub was a bad place.
She took the ball and instantly forgot about it. She threw it to the girl, who burst into a devilish laugh, the sound of a monster in it. But it was utterly ridiculous to Ingrid, as if it weren't happening. The ball was incredibly soft, fitting perfectly into her hand. But the best part was how it bounced off the ground. There was something pleasant about the sight, a kind of demonstration of the laws of the world.
She couldn't tell how much time she'd lost playing, but suddenly the ball transformed for a moment into his eye. An eye that spoke the words of that sad song her aunt sang.
Will we have time again, purple girl...
She didn't catch the ball then, letting it fall to the floor and then vanish.
"I have to find him. Take me to him."
It's a good thing she managed to get that out. Sometimes you just need to open your eyes to chase away the dream.
The girl turned around without a word and began walking forward, her tiny shoes beating an ominous rhythm on the stone flagstones. As if the final seconds before midnight were passing. And her mother always forbade Ingrid from entering their room at such times.
The door opened by itself the second it appeared before her, and the smell of death immediately reached her.
She knew it from childhood, remembered her mother when no one had visited her for several days, and she was too young to carry her dead body out into the garden. She had hidden in the kitchen, but it didn't help. Now the same smell wafted around her, almost disorienting.
She stood there for a moment and saw with astonishment that the girl had entered first. She was completely unafraid. She looked at Ingrid with hopeful eyes, as if to assure her that everything would be alright. As if she knew the way and was just testing her endurance.
If the girl could do it, then she too must. The decision was made. She passed through the inhumanly creaking door, which closed behind her with a small latch.
The last rays of light vanished in an instant. She saw nothing, heard nothing either. Except for her own footsteps on the floor. The gentle touch of a foot on stone.
Suddenly, she heard something begin to shift across the floor. She couldn't tell from which direction, but someone was definitely moving around the room. Although he tried to conceal the sounds of his journey as best he could, they grew louder. This must mean he was getting closer. With each passing moment, the distance was closing.
After a few moments, she felt a sudden fear. The kind that comes suddenly, without reason. The kind that refuses to leave her mind, no matter what. No rational arguments could help Ingrid banish this primal fear of the unknown.
Her heart began to beat so fast that she couldn't even gather her thoughts for a moment. A vague panic invaded her soul and grew stronger with each passing second. She could hear the rustle of someone's movements growing clearer. She knew she stood no chance against this unknown opponent, who surely knew every corner of this room.
The thought had barely entered her mind when she caught a strange scent that seemed to indicate someone was standing right next to her. She took a step back, but it was too late. Cold hands gripped her neck with terrible force. Her delicate body was meaningless against the mysterious force that was trying to extinguish the flame of her life. She couldn't even scream; all her emotions were suppressed in her thoughts, in her desperate attempts to explain this turn of events.
All this effort, this terrible journey she wasn't even fully aware of, led nowhere. And her life spent in a cottage with rattling floors... No one would surely find even her body in this nightmare castle. In a room without a lamp.
Will we still have time, purple girl?
Suddenly she felt good. As good as she had so many years ago, when she was quite little. And the lack of air stopped bothering her completely. It became incredibly pleasant. Why breathe? Why bother? Wouldn't it be better...
And yet the world is so beautiful... These flowers, reflecting the morning sun... And the mirror that does what she does... And the water, the wet water that caresses her hands so beautifully... And Mom... Mom singing by the evening fire.
And the balls, the red balls in his eyes, bouncing on the floor.
She slowly stopped wanting anything, feeling anything. She felt as if she were falling asleep, or perhaps just waking up from a dream. Before her eyes stood a figure in a black hood, eyeless, rejoicing that she had fallen asleep. Was he still waiting for me?
Apparently the girl found him and told him about Ingrid's bare feet.
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