Darling, I Am No Spirit

The ice cracks beneath my bare feet. The cold biting into my skin. But that doesn’t matter. As I would rather fall into the cold watery depths of the lake then -

- Don’t be silly, you have much more fire than that

I shake my head, I don’t. I wish I did, I wish my story would end in a more graceful happy way. But as the cracks spiderweb underneath me and I look down and see that dark water underneath I just know that I’ll -

- You won’t die, I’m not going to let you

I run faster, letting my footsteps fall heavier as if daring the ice to fall beneath my feet. Sometimes no matter how much you deny it, how much you turn a blind eye or write something different, it doesn’t change reality.

- I write your reality, silly woman and this isn’t your end.

Behind me, my husband swears. As if he too can hear what my beloved writer says. As if he can feel the caress of his deep voice. Sometimes I believe he’s a lost spirit that has turned his back on the light, chained to earth for eternity. And now he’s choosing to spend his existence haunting me.

- You make me laugh sweet one, but I’m no lost spirit.

“Maggie! Stop!” George shouts behind me. George. George. George. Stupid George, who convinced me he was on my side. Who said no matter what, no matter the hunger, the painful cramps in the stomach, we would never turn on each other.

- I did warn you. I always hated that motherfucker

I can’t help but smile at that. But it disappears when George yells again. “Maggie!” His voice cracks, I can hear his desperation. It makes my steps falter and I nearly slip on the ice.

- Maggie

The spirit keeps warning me. Throughout this whole ordeal he’s been pushing me to act.

- stop referring to me as a spirit. I am the writer of your story.

I want to stick my middle finger up in the air, stop listening to my thoughts!

- Fine, whilst you debate on whether to turn around and give your husband another chance to turn you into dinner so he doesn’t have to starve to death in these forests I’m going to let the reader know what’s going on

You motherfu-

- So, what you readers must be wondering, is how on earth this beautiful ahem - this woman is doing running barefoot across a frozen lake in the middle of the forest. Despite my persistent warnings, Mags didn’t listen, and decided to trust her husband’s insistence that he would not kill her in her sleep and eat her. Yes, I know let’s just pause there and guffaw at that. But they have been stranded in this forest for nearly four weeks in the dead of winter so -

Would you shut up, whilst I try to run for my life?! I want to scream. Actually, you know what fuck it. I let myself scream, my voice echoing across the vast lake and scaring a flock of birds from the trees bordering the lake to my left.

“Maggie, I’m so sorry okay! I wasn’t thinking! Of course I wouldn’t harm you! You know me!” George yells out behind me.

I turn to look and see how far he is. More than 100 meters, thankfully.

“Do I know you really?! Didn’t think I married a cheater! Really George your secretary?!”

“THAT WAS NEARLY A YEAR AGO MAGGIE!” He says, his left foot sliding across the ice nearly making him fall into the splits

- Keep running darling, don’t let him catch up to you.

I shiver, remembering where I am. What I’m doing. I turn my back on him.

“Maggie, please. I can’t survive without you”

“Fuck you George! It’s your fault we are in this mess! You know I hate heights, yet booked that helicopter tour anyway!”

- Focus, darling

“Oh shut up!” I shout to the sky, where I imagine the spirit is.

- I don’t live in the sky.

Oh for godsake, I’m arguing with two men. One of which is not even real.

- aHEM, I am real thank you.

Tears of frustration threaten to fall. I don’t even have shoes on. How will I even survive the day? I’ll die from hypothermia.

- If you stay, he’ll try and suffocate you in your sleep again. I have already written a chapter about that. Don’t make me have to use it.

I need shoes, socks. Why did he have to try and kill me the night I hung my socks up to dry?! My throat still aches. I woke up, with his hands squeezing my neck. Him sobbing sorry, whilst crushing my throat. It’s lucky his strength has waned considerably without food. I managed to buck my hips, throwing him off me. Both of our bodies shaking from the exertion. I ran, not even thinking about my shoes. And somehow I have ended up on this frozen lake, because I knew if he followed he was more likely to fall through than me.

I don’t think I can kill him if it came down to it.

- Yes you can darling and if it does come down to it. You will.

His voice is demanding, and I have no choice to nod slightly in agreement. I’m nearly across the lake, over halfway. Just a little further…. It happens so fast. The ice beneath my left foot disappears. I scream, as my leg falls through, my body lurches forward and I crash down on my forearms, the cold making me gasp. It shocks my body, burns.

- Shit, I didn't mean to write that. MAGS MOVE.

My nails bite into the ice, scraping, trying to find purchase. I hear more cracking, then the ice breaks apart beneath my other leg. The air whooshes out of my lungs, as the cold bites again.

- You can do this darling, you can overcome anything I throw at you.

Tears stream down my cheeks. I hate him. Hate how he keeps on testing me. I don’t have enough strength for this. I hear heavy footsteps speed up and know it’s George catching up to me. He’s going to kill me, he’s going to -

- No, he won’t. Get the fuck up.

His anger burns through me, and I scream louder as I force my numb legs to kick, pushing myself across the ice. I’m finally able to slide out of the water, my toes digging into the ice until I’m and on my hands and knees, trembling.

- Move Mags, you don’t have time to take a breather.

I don’t know if I can. My arms shake, my whole body shakes. Weeks without proper food has taken away any strength. I can’t.

- MOVE MAGS!

His voice fills me, making me push up to my feet. George has gained 50 meters, now close enough I can see the craziness in his eyes, can see the disarray of his overgrown beard and hair. Gone is the successful, put together CEO. In his place is a man who will do anything to live another day. Including killing and eating his wife for food. We did it with the pilot. Although he died when the helicopter crashed, so thankfully we didn’t have to kill him. It was George’s idea to eat him though. And I sat down with him after he had cooked an arm over the fire. The meat looking too good to resist.

I can’t feel my left leg, and when I look down it’s bright red as blood rushes down trying to fight off the cold. I limp, slide. Using my hands to assist in moving my numb leg forward. He’s going to catch me. He is. And I’m going to die.

- No, you won’t. Focus on that tree there Mags. Focus on getting across the lake. Don’t look down, just keep staring at that tree.

It’s like he’s connected to my mind. Cause I know exactly what tree he is referring to. The tall pine tree that stands so close to the edge of the lake in front of me, its roots are probably half submerged in the icy waters. How it’s survived, is beyond me.

- You will survive, just like it has. Come on darling, pick up the pace for me.

I close my eyes briefly before gathering up the last of my strength, pushing my body across the lake. My feet slipping every step of the way.

- That’s it

When I finally step on solid firm ground, I weep.

“Maggie!” I hear the sound of cracking, a splash, and turn. It’s George. Instinctively I step back onto the lake.

- NO

His voice is so stern I jump back, grabbing onto the pine tree that I had so desperately wished to reach. The bark, rough against my hand. It’s then I see the blood.

- Don’t look Mags, not now. Don’t -

But I do, I was so caught up in getting to this tree that I hadn’t realised my frozen foot has been cut. A jagged slash across the side of my ankle, somehow I must have cut it on the ice when kicking out of the water. I start to hyperventilate, the same time George yells out to me again. His lower half now in the lake.

- Breathe, darling. Breathe for me. It will be okay. It’s not deep enough to need stitches. You just need to patch it -

But all I see is blood. I have a phobia of it. Ever since i was little. The sight makes me pass out.

- Deep breath in Mags. Then out. You need to slow your breathing.

I can’t, I can’t. “Maggie! HELP ME!” George yells. My focus turns back to my now drowning husband. I feel light headed. So light headed.

- You cannot pass out Mags. Not now. You will freeze to death.

But his words can’t seem to reach me. They seem too distant. All I can think about is the blood, the red so stark against the ice. Against my skin. And then George. His voice is filled with such fear. I don’t even realise I’m stepping back onto the ice. My mind is seperate from my body now.

- MAGS! DON’T YOU GO BACK TO HIM

But I keep stepping forward, one step at a time. I don’t feel anything. So numb. So tired.

- WHAT ARE YOU DOING MAGS

George notices me walking towards him and yells for me to hurry. I keep going until I’m just outside George’s reach. His hands now grasping for my legs, his face turned up pleading to me. His face so pale from the cold. So gaunt. Lips already blue. I stare down at him, watch as he slides further into the water. His face twists into confusion, then anger, as he yells for me to step closer. To help him. The heavy boots he’s wearing - which actually belong to the dead Pilot - are probably dragging him down. He’s nearly submerged up to his shoulders.

- MAGS DO NOT STEP CLOSER! PLEASE DARLING DO NOT DO THIS. THIS IS NOT HOW YOUR STORY ENDS

I reach down, see the hope that flashes through George’s eyes. But I don’t reach for his hands. I dip my fingers into my blood and start writing. My fingertips skating across the ice. Throughout the weeks stranded, George and I have heard planes and helicopters pass over us. But the trees are so dense, it would’ve been impossible for them to see us.

But this lake? This vast expanse of a canvas? They could see this. George’s yell fades as his lips go numb, eventually he sinks completely, his screams getting cut off. But I pay him no mind. Instead, I dip my fingers into my cut again and again. Using the last of my strength to write HELP. As I write the last letter, I let myself sink to my knees, then lie on my back staring up at the clear blue sky above me.

- Stay awake Mags.. please.

I’m sorry spirit. But you can’t write this part. And I close my eyes. The only one able to save me will have to be the reader. Whoever passes over and sees my message. I just hope they come in time.