The Fissure in the Frost: A Psychological Winter Mystery

Mara told herself this was a break.

The cabin was perfect—a sleek, modern box of cedar and glass tucked into the quiet mouth of a snow-dense forest. It was Emilia’s idea, of course. Emilia, hyperactive and relentlessly optimistic, believed a few lungfuls of fresh mountain air, far from the city’s grime and the memory of the difficult case Mara had just closed, would act as a psychic disinfectant.

“Look at it, Mara,” Emilia had exclaimed on arrival, throwing open the glass doors to the cold. “No stress. No sirens. Just... stillness.”

The small town below the mountain was a picture of deceptive charm. The houses were old stone, the roofs capped with thick white frosting. The residents—the baker, the butcher, the shopkeepers—were friendly, their faces open and unlined, somehow unaffected by the stresses that seemed to fuel the rest of the world. Even the young adults seemed content, anchored to the town with a quiet certainty that nobody was looking to run away. It was all a little too perfect.

For two days, they had fallen into an easy, mundane rhythm of exploring, laughing, and ignoring the real world.

The Ice Puddle

The morning air was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and fresh snow. They were walking a narrow, unpaved lane when Mara saw it: a small, shallow depression in the frozen ground where water had pooled and frozen over again. Most people would have stepped around it.

But Mara, the observer of minute details, was fixated. Beneath the thin, silvery layer of ice, something dark was visible. The rational part of her mind—the part Emilia appealed to—said it was just a dead leaf, maybe a scrap of leather.

“Come on, Mara, it’s a puddle,” Emilia sighed, pulling her woollen scarf higher. “It’s something someone has dropped. Leave it, please. You’re supposed to be healing, not hunting.”

Mara barely heard her. The feeling was a cold, insistent tremor, a professional instinct that demanded attention. It was the hush of something waiting to be revealed.

Without a word, Mara braced the heel of her boot and brought it down hard, cracking the brittle ice. The sound was sharp, unsettling the heavy silence. She knelt, ignoring Emilia’s groan, and pulled out a small, roughly stitched canvas pouch, heavy in her hand. She tucked it deep into her coat pocket.

Emilia threw her hands up. “Please, for your own sanity, do not get buried in this thing. It’s nothing.” She gestured ahead. “Look, up there. The tiny cabin. That’s the legendary hot chocolate place. It’s a secret amongst the locals. They don't point it out to tourists; they let you find it on your own. Pretty cool idea, I think. Adds a layer of adventure.”

Mara nodded, forcing her attention forward, but the weight of the pouch in her pocket was a constant, itchy distraction. They found the cabin, drank the wonderful, thick hot chocolate, and talked about Emilia’s divorce—a welcome return to normal drama.

They headed back, Mara anticipating the moment she could finally sit in front of the fire and discover what she had found.

The Unpacking

Later that afternoon, the cabin was warm, smelling faintly of woodsmoke.

“That bath was everything!” Mara called out, walking into the living space, wrapped in a plush robe.

Emilia was already settled, cocooned in a blanket by the fire, a book resting on her knees.

Mara went to her coat, the anticipation almost painful, and plunged her hand into the pocket. It was empty. She looked immediately at Emilia.

“Where is it?” Mara’s voice was clipped, the calm, forensic tone replacing the relaxed holiday tone.

Emilia didn’t look up. “Oh, Mara, please don’t turn this trip into another hunt for whatever it is you’re going to find in that thing,” she said, her voice laced with a playful, yet genuinely weary, plea. “You’re like a dog with a bone; you just don’t let go!”

“Yes, you’re right,” Mara said, her tone taking on a different texture—the specific, unwavering pitch she used when a decision had been made and negotiation was pointless. “But you know me well enough to know there is no point in prolonging this conversation.”

Emilia sighed, admitting defeat. She pointed with her toe to a log resting by the stone hearth. “It’s behind that log over there.”

Mara snatched the pouch. Emilia threw herself dramatically onto the sofa cushions, groaning.

Mara quickly untied the stiff string and tipped the contents onto her palm.

“Oh my goodness, this can’t be right!” Mara said, sitting bolt upright, the water from her hair dripping forgotten onto the floor.

“Oh, lord have mercy,” Emilia groaned, swinging her legs off the sofa and moving to sit next to her friend. “Now what have you found!”

Mara emptied the small pouch completely: five rough, dull stones resting in her palm. Rough diamonds.

Emilia’s eyes widened, then her face fractured into a joyful scream. “We’re rich! Oh, we are RICH!” She looked at Mara, then immediately corrected herself. “Okay, I’m rich because you’re already wealthy; you just don’t want to touch it, which I never understood why.”

She settled next to Mara again, the excitement radiating off her. “So what do we do now? ”

Mara’s mind was already turning, compartmentalising the possibilities. “I think we have to go around town asking subtly about it, or we can hand it over to the local authorities.”

Emilia laughed out loud, a sharp, dismissive sound. “What local authorities? There’s no local authority here. I think their town council or mayor is the local authority/police.”

Mara looked at her blankly. She hadn’t actually seen a police station or anything marked with police signage. The town, in its self-contained perfection, seemed to lack the most basic structure for modern external oversight. All the same, she knew they had to find out more.

The Unsettling Silence

Over the next two days, they made their subtle enquiries. They asked the local baker if he’d lost anything valuable. They asked the butcher about strange finds in the forest. They even asked at a bizarre makeshift salon that also, incongruously, exchanged currencies—a strangely informal setup for a modern town.

Everyone looked at them like they had grown horns. Their eyes were courteous and friendly but utterly blank. What was most strange was that nobody tried to claim the rough diamonds. Did they not know they were diamonds? Did they not know their value? Or was it something else?

Mara felt the subtle shift, the cold realism of her own instincts starting to fight the face value of the town's friendliness. Something was very wrong, a secret that ran deeper than simple misplaced items. But she fought the instinct, determined to see this as a harmless fluke.

The Shadow in the Woods

They had one day left. Mara, anxious to use their remaining time efficiently, insisted they rent a car to explore the edges of the valley before driving to the train station later that evening.

They woke early. Just as they were pulling out of the driveway, the tires crunching on the fresh snow, Mara saw it—a flicker of movement, a dark shadow trying to hide behind the immense trunks of the cedars.

She slammed her fist on the dashboard and yelled at Emilia, “STOP! STOP! ” Her eyes were fixed on the line of trees.

“A short person, I saw them,” she whispered to herself. Where did they go, damn it!

She flung open the car door. She could hear Emilia in the background, muffled by the crunch of snow beneath Mara’s sneakers. “Oh, for God’s sake, Mara, now what!”

Emilia watched as her friend crept slowly toward the woods, then suddenly saw Mara sprint forward. “Oh, bloody hell!” Emilia opened her car door and ran out after her.

“Mara… Mara! Where are you going?”

Then Emilia saw what her friend had seen. It looked like a child, very fast, running out from behind a thick pine and ducking between the trees.

Mara chased but caught her foot on a hidden root beneath the snow and fell heavily, the air knocked out of her. She stood up, wiping the wet snow from her jeans.

“Did you see what I saw?” Mara asked Emilia, the question an implicit challenge: Do you believe me now?

Emilia was breathing hard. “Yes, I’m not sure what that was all about, but what I am sure about is we are leaving this evening and not waiting one more day.”

Mara wanted to persuade her friend to stay, to stay and figure this out, but she knew she was pushing too hard. Emilia was ready to leave, most probably scared out of her wits.

They drove back inside, packed their things, and drove straight to the train station. They left the rented car there, keys on the back wheel, and let the stationmaster know the rental company would collect it.

The station master was helpful. Too helpful. He offered to help them with the small bags they carried, offered tea and coffee and something to eat, all of which they refused. But he kept looking, staring at Mara. At first, she thought she was imagining it; then, she was sure.

He made the announcement for their train, and they stood up, walking toward the edge of the platform. Emilia was chattering about going to an auction house in London, convinced the stones were super valuable. Mara nodded, her attention elsewhere, sweeping the platform.

She noticed two people she hadn't seen earlier: a young woman, maybe their age, and a man next to her with a child, about the height of the person they’d chased this morning.

What the hell, she thought. No way. That can't be right. She forced herself to let it go.

She turned around just as the train was coming into view, a dark shape against the winter sky. Something told her to look back. She did. When she turned her head, they were gone. Not all of them; the woman was still there, but the man and the child had disappeared.

'It’s alright,' she told herself. We are going home. She was somewhat proud she hadn’t fixated.

The train was just pulling up, and suddenly she heard a sharp, cut-off scream from Emilia. Emilia grabbed Mara, starting to fall onto the tracks.

“Mara, oh my God, I’m going to die!” Emilia cried, hanging on for dear life. Mara grabbed her coat, Emilia's one leg half on the platform, the other dangling. She was slipping. Mara screamed for help.

One person stepped forward; the rest just stood there, watching. The man, older, in his sixties, jumped forward and helped Mara pull Emilia up just as the train pulled in. Thank God he did.

After Emilia sat down and caught her breath, she whispered to Mara, "Someone pushed me."

"I was standing next to you! I saw nobody!" Mara whispered back, her heart hammering.

"I’m telling you, Mara, someone pushed me, but they buckled my knees."

Mara looked at Emilia. Her friend’s eyes were wide with genuine terror. Mara finally understood. The elusive friend from the woods must have followed them here.

They looked at each other in silence. They both knew, with chilling certainty, that going back home now was definitely not an option.