When it was still dark I walked to the lake to see if the moon was out and reflecting on the surface now that it was frozen. Even the edges along the shore were frozen, sealed shut. It hadn’t frozen like that since 1991, someone said. It wasn’t making the queer, ice-shifting sounds anymore, it all went quiet. Now that it was frozen you could throw things on it, and I thought about running across. It was such a bad idea but it was all sealed shut and it seemed like you could. It was such a bad idea it had to be considered, it was right there.
And we drove out onto the lake when I was living near Erie, PA for college. That lake froze over so hard you could drive a bus right across it and not have to worry about a thing.
It was me and Dave and his friend Sean, who worked at the local hospital and stole pills and gave them to us in his car like we were lab rats, a few oranges, some purples…he said the names but they were hard to spell and pronounce, mysterious, like Greek names for plants.
When we drove out onto the lake I could only see a part of Sean’s face from the back seat, a swath angled down from the mirror, glowing. I didn’t like his face, I thought it looked evil. He was a ballet dancer once but now looked chunky; he had a nasally voice I didn’t like and a beard I’ll call fey.
Even though it was freezing cold we rolled the windows down and Sean turned off the headlights; we stuck out our heads and screamed, and once our eyes got used to the dark everything turned a soft blue.
Sean stopped the car and killed the engine but it made me and Dave nervous, all the heat and weight of us sitting there but Sean argued, no—and then we heard a sound like a pop, the dry crack of a rope snapping and imagined the car shifted—and Sean fumbled for his keys, he turned on the lights, and we got right out of there.
It was the last time I rode in Sean’s car. That night, we left Dave on the sofa on the front porch of the fraternity house and it was really cold, and we worried he might die. Chris and I thought we should get him inside but there was no furniture, we moved it all out so we could slam dance but then we got tired and no one came to the party and we just sat around nodding, not saying anything.
The woman who lived on the lake looked like she was in her 60s but really fit, wearing make-up and workout clothes. She asked how long I’d been there looking at the moon, asked if I’d seen it when it was dark, showed me a picture of it on her phone. She said her husband grew up on the lake and one time in the ’70s, they drove a VW bug right across it—and I said no way, that sounds crazy, I don’t believe it.
William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose. 
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks my friend! Bill
LikeLike
i would have been freaking out but i know how it would be easy to be lured in.
LikeLike
It’s not cool to freak out you know, Beth 🙂
LikeLike
Oh no. Driving on ice. So vivid. So cold. So-oooo risky. That really plumbed the depths of some well hidden anxiety. Thank you for raising that one on a Monday morning, Bill! Love the photo too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Tish! Yes, the photo is from our local lake but the story about another one, Lake Erie, that’s over by Nee York state.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, you better be sure that ice is damn thick if you’re going for a run on it … 🙂 Bristol harbour ices over sometimes and you can stand and watch the swans trail after the ferry boats, gratefully following in the path of broken ice.
They used to hold ice fairs on the Thames as late as the early nineteenth century, towards the end of the Little Ice Age. All those stalls and hawkers and traders, jugglers and tumblers and singers … Now that must have been a sight
LikeLiked by 1 person
My God! Fair on the icy Thames, that’s remarkable. No limits to the asinine are there? I’m a limit-pusher myself.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not so weird back then during the Little Ice Age, as the temperature was routinely much colder than it is now and one hard winter the ice grew to 11 inches thick, so not much of a risk really – even if they did light fires and walk elephants on it! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/River_Thames_frost_fairs
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good lord. Like the idea of the fire,for sure. Reminds me of doing camp fires in the snow,and neat how it melts down in the ground the way it does.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve always love the idea of Frost Fairs, though I would have hated to live through those times – imagine all that cold and only a few layers of wool and linen to protect you from it? Brr
LikeLike
I hope you don’t take unidentified pills anymore, Bill. Listening to the litany of side effects in the drug commercials gives me the heebie jeebies.
Nice run of wintertime posts you got going here … ❄️
LikeLike
Something about the combination of stupid and evil, they seem to go together. Remarkable the dumb things we live through, somehow. Lots and lots of material there. You have a nice run going yourself. But thanks sir!
LikeLike
Stupid, evil, or both? My favourite tests for situations, when I’m feeling judgmental. 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
Both A and B. 😎
LikeLiked by 1 person
I just noticed the snowflake too✌️
LikeLike
That was so great!
LikeLike
Hey thanks! Ha ha!
LikeLike
Crazy all right.
They ice fish around here, which seems like a terrible way to spend an afternoon. But then, regular fishing does too.
LikeLiked by 2 people
One word, beer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was an especially visual and clear post . I like the bit about the driver’s face looking evil and how you gave the woman at the lake the pleasure of a shocking revelation.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi Kristen, thanks. I experimented with lying on this one (but was honest about how I tagged it, “flash fiction”). About all of it is true except one key scene. Playing around with what it takes to story tell beyond memoir, why not? Glad you liked that vignette from the back seat though, that’s pretty much true, but behind the veil of +20 years of time and frayed memory.
LikeLike
It read like a short short story, how you tied it all together (I missed the tag, oops.) I hope you’ll play around some more, as this was really strong. I hear you on the 20+ year memories. There’s something liberating in getting to bend what we couldn’t then.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s a cool way you put it, on the bending. Doesn’t work for my joints but maybe for reality, yes.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My only experience of driving on ice was when lived in Saskatchewan, on Lake Diefenbaker. There were ice fishing shacks all over, which suggested it was perfectly safe, but it still felt dangerous.
LikeLike
I’ve done some glacier-crossing, arguably more dangerous, but something about going across a frozen lake feels especially daring. I envy where you live Audrey. Some day…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Now I live in Victoria BC, a veritable paradise. But there is a lot to see in Canada, that’s for sure.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Did you take that pic? Ice always freaked me out. Ice cracks. It’s unpredictable. It’ll offer support and then withdraw it. Just like people.
LikeLike
I took that with my new phone. I went from a iPhone 4 to 7, just like that. Wow. Didn’t think I was into speed but I was wrong.
LikeLike
Think I read somewhere that ice needs to be 4″ thick before it’s safe for general use. I never had much call for going out on the ice, even back in Minnesota. I tried ice fishing once (no hut to warm up in) and about got frostbite.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That makes sense, the thickness. A good rule of thumb so to speak! (Thick thumbs!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nicely written. I live in Rochester and cruise thru Erie regularly. Keep writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wunderbar! Thanks friend, “upstate style.” Bill
LikeLiked by 1 person