an Lives for One Day
By J T PEARSON
copyright 2013 Joseph Pearson
Depressed and angry, Conrad sat by himself that Christmas Eve while a violent snowstorm ravaged his humble town. He blamed God for his unfulfilled life. He felt that he had been robbed of a decent life, a life filled with people who loved him, a family, close friends, respect from the small town where he had resided his entire life. Conrad got up from his chair and peered out the window at the snow whipping around on the howling wind. He stripped and left his clothes in a pile at his feet. Then he left his home to wade into the storm. He walked against the frigid wind down the drift covered street, planning to walk out of the world the same way that he’d entered it. His fists were clenched in rage, puffs of steam left his mouth and were immediately swept away with the snow on the gusting wind. The snow that melted on his skin immediately frosted his eyelashes making them heavy. It also gathered in his hair and froze it, causing it to sit solidly on his head like a warped crown. His body was shivering so he wrapped his arms tightly over his chest. They would be the last to ever embrace him. His bare feet were turning blue. He walked until he reached the home of his former best and only friend Bill, who he had gotten angry at two years previously over a nothing argument, demanding at the time that his friend leave his sight and never return, and now Conrad had returned to the scene of the squabble and knelt down in the man’s front yard facing his front door. He looked up at the sky, squinting against the snow and ice that pelted his eyes. “If you wouldn’t give me a decent life then why’d you even bother to create me!” he screamed at God. “Why couldn’t you give me what other people have!” He continued to scream at God but his words were censored by the booming commotion of the storm. Still, he remained on his knees, in false homage, in his friend’s yard, seeking pity. He would leave one final cruel gesture to both God and his former companion, one last figurative hand raised with middle finger extended. He pictured his former friend waking the next morning, Christmas morning, and looking out from his living room window at the most unusual and horrific gift one could imagine.
Bill, an old bachelor just as Conrad had been, but of the completely opposite disposition all of his life, woke up that Christmas morning excited to go see his niece and her five small children, the cab of his pickup already loaded with their presents wrapped in shiny metallic green and gold, and finished with complimenting bows. Later that day the temperature would generously rise to a livable three degrees above zero but this morning the outdoor thermometer fastened outside Bill’s kitchen window read twenty six below. He poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred it with a candy cane a kid outside Lenny’s market had given him after he had dropped a couple of bucks in the Salvation Army pot. He sat down at the table and looked out the window. The snow that had accumulated from the storm over the past day and a half had to be greater than the thirteen inches the forecaster had predicted. Mountainous snowdunes stretched out into the distance as far as Bill could see, but now the snowfall had slowed to a light sprinkle and the winds were long gone across the border, running through Canada, wild and unchecked, an invisible heard. He finished his coffee, dropped the mug in the sink, ate what was left of the candy cane, and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, where he had dropped it the night before. He stepped out on his porch, steam billowing from his mouth as he adjusted to the frigid conditions, bouncing up and down and stomping his feet, perhaps doing so more as a distraction from the cold than actually combating it. He paused as he stared at the strange sight in his yard. What on earth is this? He stepped off the porch and moved closer to inspect it. Conrad’s body had frozen solid and then formed a thick cocoon of ice and snow around it. Bill placed his hand on Conrad’s head and smiled. A life size ice sculpture of a man, and so realistic, he mumbled to himself. He considered who might’ve had the ability to create such an art piece as he stood admiring it. And who would have been so kind as to leave him this extraordinary gift. His friend Lyle had created a few ice sculptures but he was a novice, not capable of something so exact, so detailed, so exquisite, and he really wasn’t the generous type. He walked the perimeter of Conrad, the shape of a man in prayer. Bill decided to take it with him to his niece’s house and show it off. He had to push and pull with everything he had as he tried to break it free from the ground, worrying a little bit as he did so that he might throw out his back and miss the Christmas festivities altogether but it eventually broke loose with a crack. He trudged through snow nearly knee deep in some spots dragging the sculpture behind him to his pickup and lifted it into the bed. He was surprised by how heavy it was. His tailgate had long ago been the victim of the salt on the Minnesota roads and melted away with rust so he grabbed several bungee cords from his tool box and secured his surprise gift to a portion of the box that looked less corroded than the rest of it. He got into his truck, blasting Christmas music from the truck’s stereo as he burrowed through streets that hadn’t been plowed yet and might go unplowed all day, the plow drivers home snug in their beds or opening gifts with their families like everyone else. That was okay. Most of the folks that lived in tiny North Port had four wheel drives and snowmobiles if they needed to go somewhere. As Bill slid around a particularly deep intersection, singing Silent Night earbleedingly off key and at the top of his lungs he didn’t notice his unusual gift break free from his truck and slide to the edge of the road. When a glance in his rearview mirror alerted him to the fact that he had lost the sculpture he did a quick U-turn and retraced his path but was unable to find the sculpture. It was as if it had vanished. When he was satisfied that he couldn’t find it he gave up and headed to his niece’s house, his Christmas cheer only slightly dampened.
Tyler and Dougy towed the Conrad sculpture behind them, amazed that anyone would just throw something so cool out on the road. They were hauling it to Suicide Hill where all of their friends were already sliding and awaiting their arrival. When they paused to rest they decided to name their new acquisition Ice Man. Tyler broke an icicle off of the bumper of someone’s car and carved the name across its chest. When they got to the monster size hill the kids dropped their sleds and flocked to see the sculpture. So much steam billowed from the kids - children whose internal organs must have mutated to endure such grueling conditions - that from a distance they almost looked like they were on fire.
“What is that thing?” asked Susan Wilmer, sliding the back of a red mitten iced with snow across her face in a messy attempt to keep her nose from dripping.
“This is Ice Man,” answered Dougy.
“Where’d you guys get it, Tyler?” asked Rod Weebler.
“Found it.”
“No way.”
“Yeah. We found it over by Meyer’s Grocery on the road. Somebody must’ve just thrown it away,” explained Dougy.
“Wish I’d found it,” said Susan.
“We’re going to take it down the hill,” said Tyler.
It wasn’t long before all of the kids were including frozen Conrad on their toboggans as they flew down the hill, then toting it back up the incline with considerable effort. They decided to let Ice Man try a run on his own. They used the bungee cords that Ice Man still had tied to his waist to fasten him to the sled for the solo mission. After a couple of successful runs they decided to test Ice Man’s mettle and send him down the hill over the Death Ramp, a ramp near the base of the hill that they’d buried in the snow and then covered with ice. Only one kid, Bunny Jacobson, had ever attempted to jump the Death Ramp and that was with her starting from halfway down the hill instead of at the top. She ended up going to the hospital for treatment of a fractured wrist. Surely, a run from the top might kill someone. The kids stood on the edge of their snow covered mo
untain hanging on to the sled, nervous energy singing through their fingertips. Finally it was time. They sent frozen Conrad down the hill toward the ramp, hoping that he would stay on course. Their aim was true and the Ice Man gained more and more speed. He hit the ramp and launched into the air, sailing along like the sled had been built to fly. The children held their breath as they anticipated the landing. The sled dropped into the snow and shook wildly before righting itself and continuing down the hill until it reached the bottom, and then continued on because of its considerable momentum until it slid on to a road at least a hundred yards from where it had landed. They stood in awe of their accomplishment. A truck came around the corner right at that moment and hit its brakes, sliding right up to the Ice Man before managing to stop. The man who was driving jumped out clutching his chest as if he were about to have a heart attack but relaxed when he saw that the occupant of the sled was an ice figure. He looked up and saw the kids at the top of the hill turn and run away.
The man who had nearly run the Ice Man over had a girlfriend that