My breath created clouds in the moonlight. The pond was large, the surface a mirror. Around here they say if the night was cold and clear, and you skated alone, she might appear, offer her hand, and skate alongside you.
The conditions were perfect, at least according to kids in town. The adults had been a waste of time. I encountered only fear and uneasy glances.
I pulled the laces tight, the blades of my skates wobbling under me. It had been decades. Getting out of this without a broken ankle would be a success at this point. I dug a sharp toe into the ice and pushed off, hopeful to generate some warmth.
I glided slowly, scanning the pond. After an hour, I couldn’t feel my fingers, my face was frozen, and my ankles ached.
Considering how hostile the adults had been, I couldn’t get the kids to shut up about the Green Lady. Every small town thought their ghost was real. Sometimes they were right.
With a sigh, I decided to call it and made my way back toward the shore. About thirty feet out I saw a flash of green below my feet. In my shock one of my skates slipped sideways and I twirled to maintain my balance.
The Green Lady laughed at my antics, her skating smooth and practiced, but upside down from my own. Her blades left sharp cuts in the underside of the pond surface. Her clothes were antiquated, but her face was timeless. We stopped. She crouched, her face drawing near.
She placed a hand on the ice. I did the same.
A crack reverberated across the pond like a gunshot and I felt our fingers intertwine. I was no longer cold.