On Skates of Red - Art Fest Writing Submission

Solariopa · Post time 2022-8-14 22:28:25

Edited by Solariopa at 2022-8-14 21:37

On Skates of Red

Things were never the same the day Juno’s wings snapped.

Come on, she shakes her head, swallowing a frown to smile. It’s over. It’s done. Get over it, Juno.

Hair, bound in a windswept ponytail, unfurling under the guide of frigid winds. Seconds tick off the face of a clock as she glides onto the icy remnants of Snowcap Glade. Azure skates sing upon the rink as her gown glistens, unyielding to the everlasting cold. Wings or no wings, Juno rules the ice with unstoppable grace every time she takes to the stage.

You don’t need skates, you know? Frost fairies always assail her with countless inquiries about her talents and why she treasures the skates so much. We can naturally dance upon the ice. Who needs those things?

Juno can never explain, or decipher the maze-ridden thoughts of their value. Other than saying that they just fit real nice on her, and she sure as heck can’t have it any other way. They’re snug, warm. And really, they need no further explanation.

A spin into the air without a thought. Snowy haze won’t stop translucent doubts from wailing against the doors of her mind. But skating should. Skating a serenade of calm and familiarity, soothing as a quaint lullaby, banishing nightmares and doubt from entry.

…

The skates break that evening. Weary amber paints the sky in dull shades, gradually dimming to darkness. In a slumping silhouette amidst the yawning horizon, Juno just sits atop the wintry snow. Sharp edges of shattered wings flail about in the light snowfall.

A yellowing bruise snakes down the knee she collapsed on.

I screwed up.

Tears draw flighty strokes upon her contorting face, so she hurriedly buries the evidence by hugging her knees against her head.

In the distance, something squeaks.

She looks over her shoulder instantly despite her tears. It’s a guinea pig, white as the snow with big, stupidly-cute red eyes. Hanging out of its mouth are two ice skates, dangling against indifferent breezes. Unlike the old ones, they’re crimson and ardent.

Before she knows it, the guinea pig’s nestled up beside her, dropping the skates by her feet. It’s warm. Familiar. It’s almost as if she’s got wings again, and everything isn’t so heavy anymore.

…

It takes time to settle with the skates. But the calming red of them and the guinea pig’s eyes never recedes. So it gets better, day by day. Rather than looking at it as healing, she believes it’s more of a gradual, time-taking change in perspective than anything. A change that'll never finish, really, because that's how life works.

I think I’ll call you Mochi, Juno remembers whispering one night as she tucked the guinea pig to bed in the depths of a cozy log. Thank you for everything.

She remembers petting her with expert gentility before blowing out the candles. And as elegance emboldens her current performance, stronger than any mere wing flaps would emit, she laughs in unflinching freedom.

Things would never be the same. But you know what? She scoffs at the pointlessly hopeless notion. Everything changes eventually.

Twirling a fluid leg into the air, she's the angles of a seamlessly-spinning crescent. A grin lights up on her face, resplendent amid the night sky. Another brisk hop into the air without the safety net of pixie dust, then a fluttery waltz of angelic beauty.

Yeah, she laughs with tears this time as she concludes the dance, unbound hair coiling around her face. Rose-red skates seemingly bloom against the frosty mist. It isn’t so bad, after all.

...

A/N: Here is my entry for Art Fest. Originally, it was just a little experimental short story I wrote for Juno. However, my friends encouraged me to submit it as an entry. I had forgotten Art Fest was going on but I figured I might as well give it a shot. It's a tad glum and bittersweet 'cause that's my usual forte when it comes to writing. Nonetheless, hope you enjoyed it.