Cold Night

by Erica Polevoz

Even on the coldest nights, there is a crackling fire in an inn, ready to warm you up. A young sailor, called 'Sal' by her shipmate, basked in the heat of such a fire.

"Ai, Joe!" The small red-head grinned at her childhood friend and shipmate. "Ta think! We woulda been sailin' in this 'ere weather, if not for the mighty storm that forced us 'ere."

Thunder crashed as she exclaimed how lucky they were. The typhoon outside was getting worse and worse.

"I've seen colder," A raspy voice hissed like a steam from the farthest corner. "This is warm compared to my old home."

"The coldest night? Warm?" Sal's accent betrayed Irish ancestors. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Hush Sal, not everyone is from Ireland." Joe scolded quietly, his low voice harmonizing with rain that battered the roof. "What's yer story.?"

The stranger smiled a pure white smile, but his pale skin just looked whiter next to his teeth. His pale, silvery eyes glinted with excitement.

"I'm an old sailor, from far north. I sailed in a wooden ship, like yours, but we got lost. For many months, we wandered around the frozen ice-caps of the Arctic, our ship soon needed repairs." He paused to take a long, wavering breath.

"So we repaired with what we found: ice. Over time, we had a ship made entirely out of ice. And over time, we had a ship made entirely out of ice. And over time, we learned to patch up ourselves with the stuff-" Joe cut him off.

"So you could have patched it with air and sailed the clouds too?"

The stranger smiled. "Yes, but eventually, we made it out. My brother wanted to take over. But I stood in his way, SO, in order to get command, he threw me overboard. As I fell, I cursed him, his crew, and his ship. I never saw them again." He sat back, the story over. his voice and eyes, although, were devoid of emotion.  

Sal thanked the man, excusing herself with a hearty yawn for bed. Joe quickly followed, bright blue eyes trained at a point that only he could see, mind racing under his bush of black hair.  

That year, they went up north, and learned more than they could ever imagine.

Even on the coldest nights, there is a fire in an inn, ready to warm you up. Two Irish sailors found themselves in such an inn, sitting in the coldest corner of the room, as far away from the fire as possible. Odd, as it was the coldest night of the year.

About the Author:

The Elephant Queen is a female humanoid, still undergoing the mutations you creatures refer to as 'puberty.' She is dreamy and is very well read. Most literature pieces written by The Elephant Queen are pieces of free-verse poetry. An abstract thinker, it usually takes one or two tries to obtain the hidden message. The Queen is not a fan of social media and has banned it from the Kingdom Arulean. Tumblr and Minecraft are favored sites, as well as the mighty Youtube. Pokèmon is a national sport, as decreed by The Elephant Queen. Trespassers are not welcome. The Elephant Queen is not very social and prefers a weekend of being locked in a dark room, with Minecraft and Vocaloid to shopping at the mall. Puzzles and documentaries are a common activity to the mighty Queen. Fantasy is a favored genre that her hazel eyes eagerly absorb. Showing a promising talent for languages and writing, she hopes to become an author when college is finished. More of an owl than a songbird, The Elephant Queen loves the night more than the light of the day star. The Elephant Queen is Erica Polevoz.