Die Kälte Wärme

She dashed on, e’en though it made it worse. But ’twas the only way.

It’s gotta be here somewhere.

Everywhere under her scabbed feet was steaming crust, pocketed with splots that oozed with lava like popped pimples. Her eyes watering in the steamy air & her lightheadedness in her thirst made it a struggle to see all the lava lakes; her need to constantly hop to ease the scalding ground made it hard to physically avoid them.

But then she gasped when she felt a chill, like cool breath on her face & down her neck. Crust fell to chunky ice. She collapsed into it & buried herself into it like a reverse blanket.


Chafe, Flare, Fridge