Cold Night

The cover image was drawn by Diane Le as part of our collaboration with the MHS Youth Arts Movement Club.

I never knew what blue felt like until tonight. My veins coursed with ice as my skin turned to clay. At the dining hall, now and then, a woman would wail, “Ironbranch Asylum will be the death of us! Be it by our hand or the damned cold, none of us will be free!” A man would soon grab the woman and pull her away, leaving the rest of us aching in her grim proclamations.

I laid in bed, suffocated by the chill, and thought to myself, today is the day I earn warmth. The plan was well drawn out. A floor above me was an office belonging to Dr. Grant. When they carried me down to this room the day after I was left here, his office had emanated warmth. Bookshelves cased the walls, and lush leather couches furnished the room… but most importantly, an overwhelming sense of warmth pulsed from the ornate fireplace.

Last night, I had managed to pull a paper clip from an orderly’s pocket as he dropped me here, where I hid it under my bed, awaiting this very moment. Tonight I will be warm. I pushed myself out of bed, placed my bare feet on the ice tiles below me, and ducked under the bed frame.

A little girl stared back at me with wide, innocent eyes and skin paler than death. I gasped, taken by surprise, then sighed, pulling the paper clip out of the bed corner.

“What do you want, Mal?” I asked, my words quivering as the cold crept up my throat.

She giggled, jumping onto my bed, and twiddled her thumbs. “ I’m just your imagination Theo. I should be asking you.”

“I don’t need to see you right now.” I crawled over to the door and toyed with the paper clip.

“Of course you do, big brother. You’re planning to escape.”

“I need to get warm,” I said, my eyes catching on the butterflies above her head. I quickly turned my back to them, hearing the door click, and tucked the paper clip away. I opened the door without a sound and whispered to Mallory, “Don’t follow me.” I then crawled out of the room, dirtying my white uniform, and checked to see no one guarding the hallway. I started treading across the white linoleum when a small voice sent chills to my neck.

“You know you’ll just get caught.”

I stopped walking and turned to her, seeing patches of green meadow grass creep up under our footsteps as butterflies flew above her.

“I just need to get warm, Mal.”

We continued walking through the hallway, my tremors increasing with each step, followed by a trail of yellow butterflies and green patches. It was then, as I turned the hallway, that I saw my defeat. In the middle of the hallway, swarming within itself, was a seething mass of moths as black as ink, convulsing together. My chest collapsed within itself.

The swarm of moths turned to me, their wings of death fluttering in anticipation. I looked down to see my feet fastened to the floor with blackened vines. The moths encased the white walls of the hallway, creeping up to where I stood shivering. In one swift blow, they pierced into me like tiny missiles, stabbing into my skin and flooding my mouth. Fast breaths left my mouth still and frozen, knowing it was the end. The moths swarmed around me, blackening my vision until all I could see was pure darkness.

Suddenly, a small white hand grasped my wrist. My eyes turned down to see Mallory intently gazing at me.

“It’s not real, Theo. You’re imagining. Look at me ー look at me and it will go away.”

My heart pounded in my throat as I forced my eyes on Mallory. Her comfort enveloped me like a soft blanket of nostalgia, remembering the days I could truly feel her touch on my skin…

And suddenly, I was no longer suffocating. The moths were no longer piercing through my skin and I was left in an empty hallway. I swiveled around, quickly realizing I was alone.

As I continued walking, my bare feet became numb against the tile floor. I had to drag my body to the stairwell. When I clicked the steel door open, my next nightmare awaited. Hundreds of men and women stood by the stairs, their faces disfigured and their clothes disheveled.

It’s not real.

Clenching my jaw, I walked into the stairwell, placing one frozen foot in front of the other through the crowd of people. Their icy hands traced my deadened skin as I continued walking, unable to look them in the eyes. They shrieked “Mad! Deranged! Deluded!”

It’s not real.

A hand clutched my wrist and I knew who was behind me. I turned to see a man dressed in all blue, with frenzied eyes, yelling, “What are you doing out of bed?!” I ignored him.

“You’re not real,” I whispered to myself, walking as the disfigured people began disintegrating, leaving only the man tightening his grasp on my wrist. With a surge of power, I broke loose, constantly repeating to myself he was not real, the moths were not real, nothing was real, Mal wasn’t real, nothing, nothing, nothing is real! Run! I ran out of the stairwell and through the cold hallway with a tear pattering down my still face. Turning at random, I began hearing chatter from behind me.

“Patient has run loose!” A heavy voice called.

I kept running, realizing it was not my imagination, and turned into a corridor lined on both sides with doors. Almost deadened from the piercing cold, I saw the door at the end of the corridor labeled “‘Dr. Grant’s Chambers’.” I sighed an icy breath and rattled the door open into a wave of warmth. I collapsed by the fireplace, enchanted by its flames. My eyes closed in contentment as I took in the scent of the disintegrating wood, and felt a soft hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see innocent eyes beam back at me, engulfing me in sweet remembrance. All I could feel was warmth.