Here’s a short story (more of a concept) I wrote a few months ago. I love superhero/superpowers lore. Just to keep up some activity until I post another review!
While she is peaceful and not awake, I kneel by her bedside. Her room is a cool blue rampant with posters of her favorite superheroes, of course, none with spandex because that’s unfashionable. The temperature drops drastically the closer I get to her, and I see the clear wisps that create my breath. I stare in awe at her unmoving form and her wrinkled nightgown and black lopsided afro puffs. If she had her way, never would her appearance be so unkempt. Usually, her clothes were forever ironed and her hair evenly circular.
No kinetic energy powers my friend’s body, even her fake-tattooed arms are limp. The pink butterflies the stroke of my brush had once made are still vibrant in contrast to the dullness of her skin. My fingertips flutter across the bedframe before my hand recoils. This is the first time I have forgotten my mittens, and the sight of my gnawed fingernails greet me. Normally, my non-manicured hands would disturb her, but she is not awake to chide me. Despite the risk of frostbite, I firmly cup her face, the only part of her not encased in ice. Her baby face is drawn into a small frown and her black eyelashes lay curled against her cheeks. “You are so pretty,” I think.
I whisper into her ear, “Sasha, I don’t know who did this to you, but don’t worry, Keah and I are going to find the iceman to thaw you.” The clock on Sasha’s nightstand ticks and I know my time is up. It is one of Sasha’s other friends’ turn now, a freckled boy waiting outside the door. “I have to go, but I will be back tomorrow.”
Sasha says nothing, but I hope she hears me. On my way, out her room, I say goodbye to Sasha’s mother still in the purple pantsuit, the one she wore the day of Sasha’s freezing. In the living room, the return to warmth pleases me, but the look of Miss Darnell immediately steals my minor joy. I give her an awkward hug, one of my arms loosely wrapping around her neck. Her eyes do not produce tears anymore, but I know she’s crying.
Sometimes, I wonder what can I really do for Sasha, if the iceman refuses to help. I am just as normal a girl as Sasha, brown skin, wiry frame, and curious. Maybe too curious because somehow Sasha got frozen, and I want to find out why. Pondering on where the truth will lead me just makes my stomach twist.
I tell Miss Darnell to keep the faith, but it doesn’t soothe her. As a fireperson, she feels she has let her daughter down. It must crush her not to be able to thaw Sasha, for fear she might permanently scorch her. There’s a rumor that Sasha has ice in her blood, which might be the only thing keeping her alive.