The coldest I’ve ever been was atop Mount Kosciuszko in Canberra during high school. I was terribly ill-equipped for the snow – wearing only jeans, sneakers, a long-sleeved shirt and a thin down jacket. Everyone else had scarves, beanies, gloves and layers – oh so many layers. It didn’t help that we were on a school trip, and back then it was the style for young men to flirt rather aggressively. As soon as we could get our hands on the snow, we were making snow balls and tossing them at each other. The girls were smart enough to aim for the body – and often the groin – of the boys. But for the boys, it was all-out-war (they were outnumbered after all).
My friend Aaron and I had been flirting the whole trip – though for some reason he was female catnip while we were in Canberra so there was plenty of flirting to go around. I believe my snowballs were thrown at him rather savagely for this very reason. He took to his defence with equal savagery, pouncing on me and shoving snow inside my jacket. I laughed at first, until the cold begun to sink into my skin. I pushed him away. My friends helped me shake out the snow, but the damage had already been done. As soon as it hit my warm body, the snow had melted, chilling me to the core.
I begun to cry in exasperation. I quickly formed a hatred of snow and everything about it. I came to my teacher in tears and she sighed before taking me inside and buying me a hot chocolate. Even with the steaming liquid, I still shivered, my face chilled from my own tears.
To this day, I hate snowy mountains and skiing, and snow always sends a chill down my spine.
Writing prompt: Cold.
Comment: Ending could’ve been better.