Chest Cold » Igloo Max Cold 60 Ice Chest
The Fable - of: Big-chest ((Ch: #12 Giant Igloo ((Disaster by the North Pole; Hudson Bay))
Chapter Twelve
Wall of Ice
Crushed beneath a wall of ice that came up from the glacier beside the igloo: the igloo collapsed to about three feet of its previous eight-plus feet height to accommodate Big-chest, of which all eighteen-members were sleeping—thus it collapsed on all of them, minus Big-chest who was guarding the campsite; it was minus-39c, with winds of some 50-mph. They were in the middle of Hudson Bay: that is, Hudson Bay was a glacier, a mass of ice over six hundred feet thick. Single-tooth sensed the danger, and put out a squeak, but no one heard it excluding Big-chest, whom was outside, not in the igloo, and the massive stones of ice, ice that was blue as the sky: ice that was as old as time itself, condensed, and heavy—collapsed. The impending danger was not over, it was just beginning.
The blocks of ice-and snow that made for the roofs, buried several of the children underneath it, buried them alive: as Big-chest was digging his way through, from the outside—inward, into the igloo, digging a tunnel type route, for the entrance had also buckled with a monstrous piece of ice that come up from the bellow of the Hudson Bay’s North Pole.
As Big-chest continued to pull and push the snow out of the corners of the bottom snow blocks, he was digging his way into the igloo, and in the process he was getting franticly tired, his age was getting to him, and his stamina was not as it used to be (his mind didn’t recognize his body’s capabilities, they were stretched thin at this point, unknowingly to him). It had been forty-seven months since the beginning of this long journey to find a home; it was all having a toll on him, as it was everyone. Most of the fat and muscle he once had was turning into evaporated energy. He was huffing and puffing after an hour of digging, and pulling out everyone; where at one time this would not had even produced a sweat.
The wolf-dogs were in there also, the igloo; one got suffocated and died, but luckily no one else died, not one child, or adult—just another dog. ‘Thank goodness,’ thought Big-chest.
It was evening when all got rescued, and everyone was sitting warmly around the campfire-as was customary, wondering what their next move would be. But Big-chest feeling they all had enough time to rest anyhow, made it clear, made it obvious, it was time to get going to another destination, so he said, and said it loudly: as he was looking down one hundred feet into a fissure prepared by Mother Nature out of ice, made by the eruption,
Said he, with a fatigued slow voice: “[A roughness to his voice.] Now, now it is time to go…’ and he looked and he looked, it was a mysterious and enduring look down, so deep was the crack it looked like a dark pit, ‘…who could make such a thick deep incision into the solid ice, what mind could create this—?’ he thought as the ice had separated? He had never thought like that before, he just normally would run—escape, not think twice of it. But he stared at the power that could slice ice like ripping a branch off a tree.
The glacier, the igloo, the collapse, the light of the evening, it all made for a long, long day: there was no reason to stay, so they took what belongings they could find: such as, the meat and the wood they had found, and thereupon, headed south on their sled: south to a land called Mystery Hill [New Hampshire].
—As they traveled south, the eruptions seemed to continue, as if the earth were having birth pains likened to a women, not regular, but you could count on them reoccurring, reminiscent of a beating of a drum under ones feet. At times it seemed the earth under their feet was shifting: they’d even lose their balance at times. Things were happening, beginning to happen, taking place—strange geological things, just like back at the Garden thought Stern-toes. Hazy as it was Big-chest knew he had damaged himself out to a thin rope but had to march on, had to go south: he was tired, as were all in the Assemblage, and the visibility was not good, the earth had created its own hazardous dust and snow—blizzard type—from vomiting up its insides.
And south bound they went, and were: Stern-toes still checking out everything, blinking his eyes, taking in pictures as if he was going to display them a thousand years from then. Big-chest’s daughter was now going on four years old: End of winter. He acquired real affection for her, something he never had for another person before. Matter-of-fact, he attained something called regard for all those in his group, possibly a new verb he turned into an adjective, and for the world he was thrown into it was hard for him to produce feelings but so he showed it now, or was trying to.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
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