Snow And Ice
Witchy knew Snow and her gang could be had over easily. The opportunity to escape their reality was the only excuse needed to drop out, to move away.
The gang was a motley, dishevelled group. Snow shone as a personality of note above the other seven members of the loosely organised gang. Their reality was, that at night, they doshed down on anything that was comfortable. Their sleep out was a disused railway yard. It had an old dilapidated, faded blue caravan that acted as the mothership. It was not out of place amongst the piles of rubbish, jettisoned construction materials and damaged, archaic carriages.
‘Hey Snow—this should grabya.’ Witchy held out a small plastic envelope of white powder to Snow. Snow was a young, attractive but not so beautiful woman who had lost count of the number of years she had had on this earth. It was another round of dropping the white powder and wasting another day in blissful oblivion.
It didn’t take long; the overwhelming lift elevated Snow to a place where everything was magnified. She could hear and smell the colours running through her.
The conjunction of her conscious and unconscious held her wrapt in the claws of an angelic dragon softly encompassing all of her skin and senses.
And then it got bad.
The euphoric burst of energy that should have come with a rush; didn’t. The Dragon plunged with her into a dark swirling whirlpool of tar; she lost her voice and panicked to breath. The more she struggled the more she was enmeshed in the black ooze that appeared to be alive with small creeping insects. It was a downer. A bad drop. She thought she had been here once before. Then the pitch black of the night that lasts forever enveloped and drowned all her senses, emotions and memories.
‘She don’t look well’ Doc choked out, holding Snow’s head in the crook of his hand and trying to get her to respond.
‘Don’t fart around—Slap her!’ yelled Sulk, anxiously pacing backwards and forwards agitated and concerned with what might be the result of an OD.
‘What’s goin’ on?’ called Dozer to no one in particular. He gave a big yawn as he stumbled across the yard to join the group.
‘Buggered if I know’ mumbled Dumbo shrugging his shoulders and moving away. Dozer also turned away and went back to his swag under the caravan.
‘Need to get an ambo here quick! Otherwise she might cark it.’ Achtung followed his statement with a deafening sneeze that disturbed two or three scrawny dogs that were lying next to the mothership.
‘Oh she’ll be right, soon as she sleeps it off.’ said Gig with a broad knowing smile that inferred he had seen it all before.
‘NO! This looks serious!’ yelled Achtung holding his head back trying to control another sneeze.
‘Who’s got a mobile?’ Doc looked around at the remnants of the group.
‘Don’t look at me, mine’s stuffed.’
‘My battery’s flat as a tack.’
These responses injected a pall of despair and desperation amongst the gang.
‘I think I have enough signal,’ said Sulk screwing his eyes up looking at the screen.
‘Well do it!’ Yelled Doc ‘Triple O’.
Snow showed no sign of change. The seven gang members now sat around looking at the ground trying not to look at Snow lying on the ground with her head propped up on a pile of old newspapers.
They could hear the siren before they saw the paramedics van. A young man, neatly dressed with a stethoscope in the top pocket of his white coat jumped from the vehicle and walked briskly toward the group. He immediately knelt alongside Snow and started his evaluation. He placed the stethoscope on her chest and assumed a look of intense concentration. He rose quickly and brought his clenched fists down hard on Snow’s chest. Snow did not respond. He again probed with his stethoscope. He discarded the stethoscope opened Snow’s mouth titled her head back and without any explanation firmly locked his mouth on top of Snow’s mouth and started to breath heavily.
After a few tense moments, Snow’s legs slowly started to move and then her eyes opened; she then became agitated and tried to push the young paramedic away. His mouth clung to hers and he continued his deep breathing. After a minute or so he stopped and leant back on his haunches.
Snow was helped up to a sitting position.
After checking her pulse he said ‘You should be alright now, you were extremely lucky we were close by.’ The paramedic picked up his stethoscope and started to walk towards the van.
‘Than—thank you,’ said Snow in a very weak voice, tears slowly descending her cheeks. ‘How can I ever thank you?’
‘It’s okay it’s part of my job.’
‘What’s your name?’ said Snow going uncharacteristically demure.
‘My work mates call me Prince’
‘But what is your real name?
‘Peter, uh Peter Charming.’ He smiled as he got inside the van wrote a few notes and then waved as he drove away.
Bio: Paul tells us that he had the task to write a story around the subject ‘the night that lasts forever’. He’s convener of a group that meets monthly to read their written contribution of a short story to a particular subject. The writing group generally selects subjects that always present a challenge. Paul decided a modern twist on Snow White would be the go with some drug addiction thrown in.