Frozen truth

The light from the moon shone in through the broken roof of the cave, hitting the frozen pools in the floor left behind by the winter, the light diffusing and reflecting to illuminate the cave in the dark of night. Frigid air circulated the cave, practically shimmering in the reflected moonlight, as though crystals were suspended on every breeze flowing in and out of the damp stone enclosure. But, most beautifully of all, a massive crescent shaped block of ice stood in the center in the cave, light bouncing through its inner workings like a puzzle being solved, before refracting on its way out to shine like an elegant chandelier, crafted by expert craftsman for the richest of the aristocrats.

This frozen crescent was the object which James was searching for as he stepped into the frigid air of the cave, which sent shivers down his spine even within his thick overcoat and many layers. He was a philosophy student - and an extremely superstitious one at that - and he had heard tale of a frozen wonder that, when it shone in the moonlight, could depart wisdom on those who came to seek it. He could hardly resist the challenge. He had searched for the cave for more than three years, believing at first that it could only appear in the winter. But now he approached in the late spring eve, bundled up beyond belief. Outside, he had been sweating to the bone, but now inside the cave he was freezing, and glad of it. Unnatural occurrences like this were a good sign of things to come, as far as he as concerned.

He stepped carefully over the icy floor, trying very hard not to slip and fall before he could make it to the structure which he had so long agonized over. There was almost no friction on the floor, though outside of the pools, the ice was extremely thin. Though the cave itself wasn't particularly large, it took James a good ten minutes of carefully planned steps - several of which had to be taken back, as the floor was not so stable as it appeared - in order to get within arm's reach of the massive block of ice.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the icy breeze that surrounded the beautiful frozen crystal. He wondered how many hundred of generations the ice might have stood through and witnessed, if only from the confines of such a cave. What kinds of truths of the world it may have seen and retained, stored away within its maze like crystalline structure.

Slowly an carefully, James removed the thick wool lined gloves which had kept his hands warm. He reached out gingerly to the ice, knowing how painful it would be if it was as cold as it looked, but having heard no other story on how to receive its wisdom. He had practiced for some time, holding cubes of ice in his hand until they melted, conditioning himself to handle the cold.

But none of his training could have prepared him for the soul stealing frigidity of the ice as he placed his hand upon it, which rushed not only through the palm of his hand, but coursing through his veins, all the way to his brain, carrying a message with it.