Coldest Day

Fear and anxiety eked through the particles of the frostbitten air, as the village went about trying to secure their livelihoods and their families' welfare in the face of the Coldest Day of the year. Since the dawn of the last ice age had killed off eighty-six percent of all human and animal life, the remaining humans had learned to live in the Arctic temperatures while they struggled through life. Although used to the frigid temperatures,mostly growing to enjoy them, the survivors still fretted over the Coldest Day. 

Benny, a local fire maker and blacksmith, was the busiest of all the merchants, as he tirelessly created bundles of sticks, rags, and dry materials for fire starting bundles. He gathered and filled jars of precious heating oils to help everyone keep the lifesaving fires burning in their hearths. For weeks leading up to this deadly day, he’d forged steel firesticks and lighters to make the fires easy to re-start when the icy wind tried desperately to put out the flames. 

As sweat from the coals brought perspiration to his brow, an older woman approached his stand. Three layers of cloth and heavy ancient fur cloaked her from head to toe, weighing her down with only her gray, stringy hair and weathered brown eyes poked out from beneath the fabrics. 

Benny paused his next strike of metal against molten to give his attention to the crone. “Merry day, Ms. Justone. How can I be of service to you?”

“Merry day to you, Mr. Locket. It’s my first Coldest Day without Mr. Justone, as you know.” Her muffled voice held traces of the heartbreak that comes with the swift wings of death. 

“I know, Ma’am.” Benny sighed. He’d enjoyed the company and friendship of old Mr. Justone for many years but this harsh life took its toll on the body and the soul. Mr. Justone had lived longer than most. “Do you need me to come light the home fire for you?” 

“Nah, Mr. Locket. I’m quite capable of doing for myself, but I’m in need of six bundles of firestarter, three hands of cut wood, and a gallon of oil.” 

“I’ll have my eldest deliver it to you before sundown.” Benny wrote down her order and took her offered basket full of fresh-baked breads and muffins as the payment for her supplies. “Thank you, Mrs. Justone. Ingrid and our children always love the breads.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll be waiting for your eldest.” She gave a quick wave and hefted another two baskets full of bakes to barter for more stuff in the market before the evening and ice fell. 

Benny’s eldest, Mary, rushed over to the stand as the sun started its long descent into the valley of night. “Sorry, Papa. My lessons ran later than I’d planned.” Wasting no time, she gathered the invoices and began to put the orders for her deliveries together. 

“It’s fine, Mary. Lessons are important. No doubt.” Benny took a break from the forge to hug his daughter and sip on some freshly melted ice water. “You’ll have to hustle to get these packages to everyone and get home before the sun fully sets.” 

“I’m aware, Papa. No need to worry, though. Link is coming to help me today. He’s done helping his father and mother get ready for the Coldest Day and has time to help me.” 

“Link.” Benny curled his lip. Link Ironside was the mayor of the village’s eldest son and had been courting or attempting to court his Mary for many years. He was brazen but strong, and would probably eventually make Mary a fine husband… although that time was hopefully still far in the future. 

“Don’t say his name like that, Papa. He’s a good boy.” Mary blushed a little at the look her father gave her. “No worries, I’ve still got a few years before marriage is planned.” 

“Thankful for that, Little Mary.” Benny dripped a kiss on his young daughter’s head. “Does your mother have everything she needs at the house?” 

“Yes. Barty and Maude are there now, helping her finish sealing up the windows and doors. Peter is finishing feeding and sealing in the animals.” 

“Good news. Get moving so we can be packed up and home to start the fires by sundown.” 

“Yes, Papa.”

The deadly sundown rushed closer as they shut down and hurried to their own cabins. Snow already fell in fat flakes as it did almost every day for endless years and Benny had to shake off the accumulated snow from his trapper hat and full beard before he could enter the home where his wife and children’s laughter echoed from behind the heavy oak door. It creaked as he shoved it open, reminding him he needed to oil the hinges after the Coldest Day. 

“Papa!” Barty, his youngest at four, cheered as ran full of energy and sugar towards his father. 

“Barty, my boy.” Benny let out a tired chuckle as he lifted the boy with his sore, tired arms and placed him on his hip. “You been a devil for your mother today, my boy?”

“Yes.” Barty gave him a sneaky grin and glanced at his mother. 

Ingrid’s brown hair was heavily streaked with gray. Her once vibrant blue eyes faded with life, stress, and time. Her once round, full, youthful face was now robust more than full and sagged a little more with each passing day. But to Benny, Ingrid was still the most beautiful woman in the village. In the twelve years he’d been blessed to have her by his side, she’d made a home for them, birthed him eight children, and had mourned four of them with him while raising the remaining four. Her light was brighter than any fire he’d ever created. 

Now she gave him her best smile, and said, “don’t let that angel fool you, Benny. He’s been a gem all day. Helping his brother and sisters get this house ready.” 

“That’s my good boy,” Benny replied as he kissed Barty’s cheek and sat him on his feet. “Let’s light this hearth and triple check the doors and windows, shall we?”

Together snug in their warm, safe house, they watched the sunset and the freeze descend. The poor evergreens began to crack under the cold—freezing and dying as they did every single Coldest Day since the Ice Age began.  

“Time to board this last window,” Benny ordered Mary and Peter as he lifted the steel board from its place against the wall. 

A panicked scream sounded through the freezing air and they all froze. 

“That’s Mrs. Justone,” Mary whispered. 

“It is.” Benny agreed as she continued to call for help. 

Ingrid put her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t help her.” She glanced at the sky. “You will die if you try.” 

“I offered her help this morning.” Benny’s breath couldn’t seem to make it into his lungs. He glanced at his children and his wife, weighed the options, then with a heavy heart, he lifted the steel board to secure it to the last remaining window. 

Mrs. Justone’s calls for help were silenced as the final bolt was driven into the wall. Benny went to feed their fire, so they’d make it through the Coldest Day and the aftermath that inevitably and tragically followed.