An Acorns Flash Fiction Feature
By: Maxim Volk
“Lace your skates tight,” her grandmother said, her warm voice a contrast to the deadly cold outside. “Don’t dawdle. They say we have a few more hours of daylight, but one can never be sure.”
Summer double-checked her skates, zipped up her coat, and put her earmuffs over her ponytail before donning a pair of white mittens that her grandmother had knitted her for Christmas. Summer loved running errands for her grandmother because Summer loved the ice.
Summer was born in the ice—not in a poetic way as some children are born in war and others in famine—but in a literal sheet of ice. She had often begged for her grandmother to recount the story of her birth, but her grandmother could only cry at any mention of the First Freeze. Finally, at her eleventh birthday teleparty she convinced her least favorite cousin, a rowdy, crass boy a few years older than her, to meet her in a breakout room and tell her of that night. He recounted the tale of her mother going into labor and her father taking her in the car, despite the weathermen’s warnings, to give birth in a hospital. He described in gruesomely exaggerated second-hand detail how they had found her father frozen solid outside of the family car that had slidden into a ditch, and how her mother, who had already fallen asleep for the last time, was transported to the already overflowing hospital where Summer was born healthy, kept warm from The Freeze by her mother’s unconscious body: one small miracle among a frozen sea of despair. Summer knew she should hate the ice for what it took from her, but how could she hate something so beautiful?
Summer flipped the switch in the foyer, causing the front door to glow and melt the frozen rain that had sealed them inside the last few days, draining it to be filtered into drinking water. Summer held in her breath, opened the door, and stepped out, slamming the door quickly shut behind her as to not cause her grandma any undo chill. Outside, Summer exhaled and watched as the warm breath she had been holding crystalized in the sunshine as it floated to the ground. She carefully descended the front steps, and then, on the sidewalk, she turned her heel and kicked off, gliding carefreely across the frozen landscape. She lifted one leg and bent the other, watching the world turn upside-down. The wind whipped her rosy cheeks as she pulled her slender frame into a tight low spin. She knew people were staring at her, annoyed that anyone chose to move so gracefully in a frozen world where speed and precision were often the key to survival. Summer didn’t care. There was nothing she loved more than basking in the glisten of newly frozen buildings and flitting from eternally icy tree to eternally icy tree.
Summer did not know how long the next rain would last, so she skated outside for as long as she could before setting off for the protein bank where everyone in town received their rations. In the middle of a smooth glide around the corner from her destination, she realized she had skated too long. The line to the protein bank was longer than she had ever seen it before. Everyone had set out as soon as the sun came out. The last rain had been worryingly long, and she remembered some of her virtual classmates mentioning that their families had begun rationing food. This time, no one was going to risk it. Summer pulled herself to the wall at the back of the line and waited impatiently, wishing she had listened to her grandmother’s advice. Hour after hour went by, and the sky turned orange as the pale sun, which Summer had been told once burned bright, began to set on the horizon. Summer was glad when she finally got to the front of the line and even more glad that they had not yet run out of purple, which was her favorite protein. She got some reds and some blues and a green along with an abundance of purple and set out for home in the ever-darkening twilight.
“It’s only a couple of miles,” Summer kept muttering to herself under her breath as she shivered in the frigid air. She made a reminder for herself that she would save her skating for after the protein bank next time so that this didn’t happen again, if she survived long enough to have that opportunity. Up ahead, a Zambo had stalled, blocking the narrow bridge that was the easiest way home. Sighing, she turned, knowing she was adding five more minutes to her journey but not wishing to keep her surely-already-worried-to-death grandmother waiting for the Zambo to move.
It was very dark now, but her new path at least took her through a maze of tall buildings that kept most of the icy wind away. She was moving too fast to take note of her surroundings when she tripped over something, falling hard against the ice. When she opened her eyes to check what she had fallen over, she wished she hadn’t. Her face was inches from a sheet of ice of that glazed the horror-stricken dead eyes of a homeless man. She screamed and pulled herself up. The city had not yet had the time to clean up the icy bodies left by the last rain’s unyielding slaughter.
Summer heard a noise nearby. Her scream had attracted attention. She didn’t want to know who would be out this late. She began to set off towards home again, but she didn’t get far. A man in a ski jacket and large goggles slid from around a corner, cutting off her path. He had long shaggy blonde hair that looked unwashed. “Where are you going little girl?”
“Stay out here and play some games with us,” snarled a different voice. Another man emerged from around a corner. Summer let out a shriek as the men inched closer to her. One lifted his hand to his mouth and slipped his glove off with his teeth. Summer held her breath, refusing to close her eyes.
From behind the men, Summer heard a whizzing followed by a loud crack. The man in front of her fell flat, a trickle of blood dripping from under his hat. The other one grumbled in confusion before receiving a similar blow that sent him sprawling. Summer looked up to see whether the attacker was her savior or another fresh horror that merely prolonged her inevitable fate.
Summer heard a chuckle as a masked figure slid to a halt in front of her holding a hockey stick. While organized sports were a thing of the past, some of the troublemakers still snuck out to play hockey when the weather permitted. The boy turned on an eLantern and pulled his mask up, revealing rosy-red cheeks that covered strong cheekbones and pretty blue eyes that glittered like ice. He gave a grin that was short a couple of teeth, trophies of too many unauthorized games. Summer recognized him as Benji, a student a couple of grades above her. He had gotten in trouble at school once for hacking the teacher’s camera and mooning the class. “Can I skate you home?” the boy asked with an air of sarcasm that masked sincerity. Summer blushed and nodded, suddenly feeling a bit warmer. Benji grabbed her gloved hand with his empty mitten and slung his hockey stick over his shoulder. They moved with haste but slow enough to make pleasant conversation. They chatted about school and family and skating and that, no matter the impending permafrost, they were glad to have the ice sometimes.
“Welp, this is me,” giggled Summer as the pair approached her grandmother’s house. “Thanks for saving me from those creeps.”
“Anytime,” Benji said, flashing his broken smile.
“See you at school tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow; I got suspended again. Monday.”
“Monday it is,” she said. She skated up to her grandmother’s door and stepped inside. Her grandmother rushed to the door, praising the warmth that she was home and damning the cold for her tardiness. Summer turned around to wave to Benji, and he waved back. A drop of rain fell to the ground in front of her and froze immediately.
“Grandma!” she shouted. “We need to let him come in. He’ll freeze to death.”
Her grandmother shook her head. “We do not have the room or the supplies for another body.”
“Please,” Summer pled. “He got me home safely. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him.” Her grandma sighed and nodded her head.
“Benji!” shouted Summer. “Come in from the cold!” Benji smiled and skated up to the door, stepping inside. Her grandmother bade him close the door and went off to boil some water for tea. Summer and Benji hugged, feeling each other’s warmth as another rain washed over the house.
About the Author:
Maxim Volk (they/he) is a queer speculative fiction author from the Midwest. They have publications in Macabre Magazine and Carnage House, and their first book releases in 2026 from Slashic Horror Press. You can find them on Instagram @maximvolk1.