Frozen Whispers in the Polar Night

October

I have been living alone in Grandpa’s cabin for over a month now. The long days with golden sunsets have gradually faded, and the nights are getting longer and longer. Yesterday, when I turned on the satellite phone, I found three messages from Mum, asking me how I was. My reply was very dry: “I’m fine, don’t worry.” She had tried to dissuade me from embarking on my arctic pilgrimage to the island of Svalbard from the very start. She had told me that for a young woman like me, accustomed to living in a bustling city, that remote place would turn into a nightmare. She hated anything that reminded her of Dad. But the more she had discouraged me, the more my resolve had strengthened. For once, my two halves, the Norwegian and the Italian, had been in agreement. The Norwegian half had insisted that I should visit the land of my father’s ancestors, while the Italian half had hard-headedly wanted to show everyone, especially my cheating ex-fiancé Milo and that backstabbing bitch Shira (whom I had thought to be my best friend), that I was perfectly capable of living alone on my own terms. Even, if that meant living in a godforsaken place without another human being in sight for miles.

I must say though that Grandpa, God rest his soul, had good taste. The cabin is a wonder. It is warm and comfortable and has large glass walls overlooking the fjord and the icy mountains beyond. When I first came, last August, I had supplies delivered to me by boat from town, enough to last me through the whole winter. So, as you can see, I’m totally self-sufficient. The silence at first felt deafening, but I am gradually getting used to it now. As my pen scratches lightly against the pages of my journal, I can hear my true voice in my head, reading every word as it is created. After years spent trying to please others, I am finally reconnecting with myself and finding my inner peace.

November

It is now pitch dark all day long. I have shortened my walks to within a few hundred metres of the cabin, for safety reasons. Polar bears are known to wander amongst houses from time to time, and although they should be hibernating during this time, I don’t want to take any chances.  Besides, I’m afraid that if I wander too far, I might get lost. I never had a good sense of direction, so I have always needed someone to lead me and show the way.

I hate to admit it but to be completely honest, I have begun to feel lonely. I would never ever say so in front of anyone but writing in this diary I can voice my inner thoughts without fear. For a couple of weeks, I tried leaving the satellite TV on for hours, just to hear the voices of other people. But I soon grew tired of the rants and shallow conversations. The chatting figures seemed to be mocking me from behind the glass screen, often giving me scornful looks which they hid behind forged smiles. I killed the TV and it has never seen the light since.

 I feel like I’m living on another planet now, in a deserted, far-away galaxy. There is no gossip to be found here, no small talk. In my newfound freedom, I have decided to try out a little experiment. I shall assume two personalities, switching at will between them. When I am in a good mood, I shall be the original Ada, as my parents have named me; the young woman who loves reading, is often cheerful and friendly, but also naïve (as you must have already realised). When I feel angry at the world, betrayed, and harmed (and I often get those bouts when I remember how I was betrayed by those who were closest to me), I shall become Visna the shield-maiden, an indomitable female warrior inspired by the Norse sagas I have recently read.

Three days ago, I found a message from Milo on the sat phone. It was like a stab to my already wounded heart. He said he was sorry and pleaded with me to give him another chance. He even sent a picture of himself, posing with puppy eyes. So, first, he cheated on me weeks before our marriage with, of all people, Shira, who would have been my maid of honour. Now, he even hinted that he would like to come over and spend some time with me, “to make up,” he said.

Milo’s message has filled me with rage. It is not a feeling that I’m not accustomed to. It’s as if I’m not me anymore.

Kind and loving Ada goes to weep in a corner of the living room, mulling on what-could-have-beens. Visna quickly takes her place. She switches the sat phone off, after telling that good-for-nothing to go screw himself. Visna opens the large sliding door of the living room and treads barefooted over the frozen decking of the large front terrace. The frigid wind cuts her face to shreds, but she does not flinch for a second. She gazes longingly at the night sky dotted with myriad tiny jewels. They are her crown. This land is her kingdom. She is the queen. Her coronation is sealed by a cascade of emerald-green ribbons that fill the sky like an ethereal waterfall from the heavens. Tendrils of pink and magenta blend seamlessly with the royal gown, snaking and dancing to the tune of Odin’s breath in the obsidian sky. Visna sits on the freezing wooden deck, energised by the cold touch of her kingdom, and spends hours looking up at that heavenly display. She shuns the warmth of the crackling fire inside the cabin. Ada and her woes have been completely forgotten.

December

           The polar night is long and deep. In the clasp of its dark mantle, dreams and nightmares intertwine playfully with reality. Ada has found it hard to adjust to the dark loneliness, but she has found a good friend in Visna, who pulls her along when she is feeling down. They have started to watch the aurora together. Ada sees it as nature’s work of art, a beautiful tapestry set against a bejewelled canvas. Visna sees it as a war banner, a constant reminder that the courage of a warrior shines against the darkness of a world filled with dangers and enemies.

           I am glad that Ada and Visna have learned to coexist in peace. They are so different, yet they both know in their hearts that they are each other’s counterparts – as light is to darkness, as warmth is to cold.  

           Milo has not given up and is still sending messages to Ada. Ada’s heart has softened, and she has forgiven him. She has even forgiven Shira. Visna is not angry at Ada’s good-heartedness. On the contrary, she has encouraged her to invite Milo and Shira to come and spend a few weeks in the cabin to experience the savage beauty of the polar night. They have agreed to come over a day before New Year’s Eve. From the tone of their messages, they seem very excited at the prospect of starting the new year in the Arctic.

Ada and Visna are both looking forward to the arrival of the guests.

Ada and Visna are the two faces of the same coin.

January

The Polar Night is coming to an end. Visna expects to see the nights turn blue and pink horizons marking the first daybreaks. She is feeling tense and perhaps, though she would barely admit it, a bit frightened too. She cannot imagine the purity of that fathomless black night besmirched by daylight. She will die of heartache if that happens. She is a creature of the darkness.

Visna has not seen Ada lately. Unlike Ada, Visna is not afraid to wander in the icy wilderness. It is, after all, her kingdom. She roams about every day, far from home, exploring the nearby shores and mountains, the priceless gems of her icy kingdom.

Yesterday, she walked to the frozen lake five miles north of the cabin for the second time. Perhaps, a bit of sentimentality from Ada has brushed off onto her, after all. The lake was covered in a thick, white blanket. There was no trace of the hole she had dug in the middle of the lake to allow Milo and Shira to take their ice dip. The two had been so ecstatic at the thought of showing off their arctic exploit to their friends upon their return home. It was obvious to Visna that the two had taken a free ride on Ada’s kindness. They were vultures who fed on the vulnerabilities of others.

Visna could still see the panicked looks on their faces as they tried to get out of the dead-cold water. Their hands had slipped off the thick ice each time they tried to heave themselves out of the hole. They had cried for help and had begged Visna to help them, obviously mistaking her for Ada. It took less than half an hour for them to slide helplessly into the dark belly of the lake.

Ada had wanted to raise the alarm immediately, but Visna did not allow it. She had to pull her weight on Ada, for both their sakes. They fell out, and Ada ran off weeping like a child. Visna had raised the alarm a week later, informing the authorities in town that the two guests had insisted on going out for a walk and had not returned. By the time the helicopters had scrambled in a frantic search, the hole in the lake had already frozen over, and a thick layer of fresh snowfall had covered it completely.

February

           I am on my own again. Visna has gone, chased away by the first rays of light that made it over the horizon. Or perhaps, I simply got tired of playing the game of two. I must say that I miss her impulsiveness and unpredictability. I wish I was a wild card like her.

I have decided to go back to Italy and spend some time with Mum. In her last message, she told me that journalists had been chasing her, asking her if she could somehow arrange an interview with me. It seems that people are dying to know more about the ordeal I have been through, with the tragic disappearance of my fiancé and my best friend. The vlog that I started a week ago has already registered 21000 followers, and I am receiving emails from hundreds of curious people every day. I ignored most of them, but one of the emails piqued my interest. It was from a publisher in Milan, who asked if I would be interested in writing a book about my arctic ordeal. He told me that it would definitely be a bestseller. I’m seriously thinking of taking up his offer. It will keep me occupied during the coming year’s Polar Night. I am almost certain that Visna will come back and help me out.