Art by Joel Hentges
Anna gazed up at the ceiling while balancing a stuffed animal on her forehead. Morning broke a few hours earlier, and all of the dreams that had taken place overnight had become but memories of faded memories, scattering to the recesses of her subconscious like bugs caught in the light. Every room in the house was quiet, devoid of even the tiniest whisperings of a mouse; Anna’s parents had already left for work, leaving their sleeping daughter alone to her blankets and warmth. If she had been a student, then it could be considered strange that they would simply abandon her; but she had always remained at home, for she was both anaemic and mute, having not once uttered a single word in the fourteen years of her weakened life. Still, Anna’s parents loved her unconditionally, and her mother had kissed her forehead before heading outside.
Despite having an inconsistent body temperature, Anna enjoyed the chill climate of her room as it offered a greater appreciation of the heavy blankets weighing down on her. Being warm during winter is a lot easier than trying to be cold in summer, Anna thought, but without thinking with words – as it is impossible to describe the mechanics of her thinking process, it will be said that thoughts came to her in terms of light and colour, painting the portrait of an idea. She drew her exposed feet into the blankets and tightened into a tiny ball, one that was sheathed in the faded pink cotton of her pyjamas. Beautiful, intricately designed snowflakes fell to the earth outside her window.
For the most part, Anna’s days were spent divided between either resting in bed or playing video games; however, Zoe – her closest and only friend – sometimes came over to take her shopping or to see a movie at the theatre, and sometimes just to visit. Otherwise, Anna rarely cultivated relationships with anyone that was not a stuffed animal or digital character – in all honesty, not many people were patient enough to sincerely befriend someone like Anna; as a general rule, not many people bothered her altogether.
Anna wiped the sleep from her eyes when she finally decided to sit up, the blankets slipping away from her body and onto her bare feet. Her short, pale yellow hair had been caught in strange angles; one tuft of hair pointed towards the bedroom door, beyond which the telephone was ringing petulantly – reminding her of last Christmas when a younger cousin had been eager to show off a new video game to her, and the rapid firing of lasers had given her a headache. Anna looked at the thin row of game cases beside her Virtuamaton, which resided beneath the small, personal television set in her oak cabinet. Passive gaming experiences involving assorted cute animals comprised her collection. She often demonstrated the new games she received to Zoe, who otherwise would not have known they had even existed – in her eyes they were merely a distraction to life rather than an accompaniment, but she still allowed herself to humour the wordless girl. If someone small could be made happy by something even smaller, then it would be cruel to find anything wrong with it; after all, nobody stops a kitten from playing with a ball of yarn.
The heavenly sky outside her window was almost as white as the snow below it. Anna picked up a black and white stuffed animal that was resting on its back beside her pillow: it was about the size and shape of a tennis ball, only much softer and fuzzier; designating its front was a tiny orange beak, with two beady black eyes next to it; on either side of the creature were fuzzy black flaps that were supposed to be its wings; and it had no legs, emphasizing its ball-like quality. If the creature had been based on an actual animal, then that animal had, with good reason, gone extinct a long, long time ago. Since it had not come with a proper name tag, it would forever remain nameless to Anna – which would make her either exceptionally creative or not creative at all, depending on how you viewed it. Anna kissed its beak and carried it over to her lacewood dresser, where she set it down beside the alarm clock before foraging for clothes. From the dresser drawers she pulled out a long, fairly basic, fairly faded pink skirt and a fuzzy black jacket; she dressed into the skirt and slipped the jacket over her pyjama top, then zipped up the white plastic zipper. Anna grabbed the stuffed animal and crawled back onto her bed, where she sat on her knees while facing the window. Her breath covered the world in a thin veil.
As Anna was intrinsically drawn to pretty sights, she wanted to see the snow more clearly, and so summoned up all of her tiny strength in a struggle to push up the frosted-shut window. Despite being mute, Anna was capable of making small, formless sounds akin to fractured whimpers, which she produced copiously while straining to push the window open. Once she finally managed to nudge it up a crack, she was startled by the bits of ice that quickly flew inwards, bouncing off her jacket and settling onto her bed like orphans coming in from the cold. She watched helplessly as they immediately began to melt on her pillow and blankets, dampening them.
After the momentary shock of being attacked had worn off, Anna quite hesitantly turned back to the window; she slowly removed her hands from their defensive positions and peered through the small opening she had made. Outside, the backyard was an infinite stretch of whiteness dotted by but a few small trees. Anna wedged the stuffed animal between the window and its frame, then retreated to her dresser, from which she procured her sketchbook and pencil. Returning to the window, she glanced out at the backyard once more before leaning her back against the wall beside it, and – using her thighs as a makeshift easel – began sketching the sight. What this soon amounted to was a blank page with some bare trees drawn onto it. However, Anna herself realised that the page seemed awfully empty, and so added her name to the bottom – completing it. Now filled with a satisfying sense of accomplishment, she flipped the cover back in place and looked up at the stuffed animal stuck in the window. Did it want to fly around outside? Anna sat on her knees again and began flapping its wings; once it seemed to have gained enough steam, she pushed it through the window, and then watched as it plummeted directly into the thick sparkling whiteness below.
Well, any excuse to walk around in the snow was good enough for Anna. She left her room and headed downstairs to the back of the house, where she pulled on her boots, opened the back door, and went immediately snow-blind. Golden rays of sunlight seeped through the spaces between her fingers as she rubbed her eyes, and stars temporarily speckled her vision when she could finally see again. Anna looked around the backyard carefully before settling her gaze on the crash site; the snow was deep enough that she could trip at any moment, and crunched lightly beneath her boots as she stepped towards the small crater that the stuffed animal had made. Bending over, hands on her knees, she peered into the hole and was impressed by its depth. Anna knew things could fall – after all, she had fallen many times, usually into a snowbank – but she did not know that something could fall so well. Although her hands were becoming increasingly frozen, Anna reached into the burrow, felt around for the stuffed animal, found it, and pulled it up to the fresh air. She brushed the snow off of its fuzz and began flapping its little wings again – only this time she made sure to keep it airborne.
One of the small trees seemed like a good place for the stuffed animal to roost, so Anna – thinking it more adventuresome – began walking it to the furthest, and tripped into a snowbank halfway there. Luckily the snow was thick and soft, cushioning her fall; chill patches of it crawled up her legs and traveled down her collar. She pushed herself up and brushed some of the snow from her hair, then glanced around for the stuffed animal, which had slipped from her fingers. Apparently her fall had given it enough momentum to reach the tree, where it waited patiently on its side. Anna treaded towards it with additional care, but still managed to stumble right before reaching it and fell flat on her face; she looked up from the snow, blinked, and realised she was staring directly into the stuffed animal’s sideways eyes. Once she managed to regain her footing yet again, Anna picked up the stuffed animal and balanced it precariously on a skeletal branch. She supposed that the stuffed animal could manage to survive on its own now, especially after the harrowing experience of their long and arduous journey together, and so, after some deliberation, she sadly waved goodbye to it, then reached up and made it sadly wave one of its tiny wings back at her. Unless she had already managed to, she would catch a cold if she did not return indoors soon.
I should’ve worn a hat. I should’ve worn mittens. Retracing her footprints, Anna managed to successfully make it back to the door without falling, though by opening the door she caused a small avalanche to drop onto her head. She pushed most of it off and stepped inside, where the warmth rapidly enveloped her body in a pleasurable embrace; the sensation was so enrapturing that it caused her to sneeze, and after removing her boots she sneezed once more. As Anna climbed the steps to the second floor, a thin, inconsistent trail of water dripped from her hair to the barren brown carpeting below. The hallway telephone started up ringing again when she entered its vicinity, predominated by an immaculately ornate table featuring a circumference not much larger than the telephone itself. Zoe made it a habit to call Anna from school on an almost daily basis, to keep her from feeling alone; these telephone calls generally consisted of Zoe relating any ideas that might have sprung to her mind, and to recapitulate the preceding events of her school day. While Anna had forgotten that the telephone had been ringing before, there was no way to disregard it now, so she slowly picked up the receiver and held it to her face. From the other end came the sound of Zoe’s voice, smooth as a milkshake and just as sweet, relating all of the inconsequential details that bound her days together. Anna simply nodded when she thought she was supposed to, and after a few more minutes, Zoe said goodbye. What is it like to say goodbye?
Upon hanging up, Anna only managed a few more steps before coughing into both of her hands. Even with that sticky proof, Anna decided that she did not have any more of a cold than she used to, and when she crawled under the blankets of her bed, decided that she was only going to sleep because she enjoyed it. However, something did not feel quite right. Anna peeked out of her covers and saw the orange tiger, which she grabbed, and the blue whale, which she also grabbed, but where was the strange, strange bird? Clutching the tiger and whale to her chest, she sat up in bed and looked out the slightly opened window, where she spotted the black, white and orange stuffed animal, still perched on the tree branch, and looking awfully alone, cold and frightened. Well, that had certainly been a regrettable idea. Now Anna had to venture out once more into the frozen wasteland of her backyard, retrieve the stuffed animal, and complete the operation by accompanying it into stable territory. Or – and this required a leap of faith on Anna’s part – she could simply send in her best agent, the tiger, undercover through the window; but then again, the window was what had created the current unfathomable situation in the first place, and the snow was beginning to fall incrementally more heavily than before – if the tiger fell into the snow, then there was the possibility of it being lost until it all melted away. What was a girl to do?
First, Anna put on a grey toque, and then she pulled on matching wool mittens. Once downstairs yet again, all that was left was her boots – which she struggled a bit to pull on – but right afterwards she was out the door, collecting snow on her hat and shoulders. From far-off trees came the light chirping of winter birds, undoubtedly confused by the strange stuffed animal that had infiltrated their community. Anna noticed that her freshly made footprints were already being filled by the falling snow; she would have to move quickly if she wished to make it a safe trip, although moving quickly in deep snow was definitely not one of her specialties. Pacing herself, she was surprised to still be standing by the time she reached the tree, where she reached up to the stuffed animal and lovingly brought it to her chest. While retreading the path to the back door, she only fell once, this time making sure that the stuffed animal did not escape from her hold. Inside once more, the boots came off, and after she tiredly climbed those increasingly foreboding stairs, so did the toque and mittens.
With the mission finally accomplished, Anna hid again under the heavy blankets until she felt snug enough, then propped her head against the pillow, looked up at the ceiling, and carefully balanced the stuffed animal on her forehead. She sneezed before falling asleep.