It broke. I stood on it and it just snapped in half like a giraffe’s neck that’s bent in half. I had looked forward to this trip for such a long time since dad didn’t like spending time with me, but mom had forced him. I’m thankful for that. Thank you, mom. This is why I like you the most.
I’ve never been skiing in my life, nor do I have any desire to go. I’m the guy who’d end up on the news for dying/coming close to death during my first time on a ski slope. And it’d be on the beginner course too. Snowboarding I might consider. But skiing? Fuck that man. I’ll stick to soccer. I hurt myself enough during that thank you very much.
Slipping down the mountain in little to no actual ski gear was not exactly how I had intended to make my escape from The Facility but, well, best laid plans and all that.
I chose to numb myself to ensure freedom of pain. I take each step with caution and analyze every interaction. I am observant but not talented in the field of expression which leaves my thoughts to outweigh my words. I find comfort in writing because ideas become clear when given a chance to form.
“Sky?” Merrins squinted up at the blue sky–or rather, what she could see of it through the window of the ski lodge. “I don’t think it works that way, Cy.”
I tried not to roll my eyes and snapped my fingers in front of her face to regain her attention. “Not sky,” I said, taking care to speak slowly. “Ski.”
“S-ki?” she rolled the word around in her mouth and shook her head.
“You strap thin sticks to your feet and slide down steep hills with them,” I explained. “You also have little flexible sticks to steer with. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Her lip curled in the way that meant she was going to be stubborn, whether I wanted her to be or not. “No. No ski.”
“Merrins!”
The curled lip morphed into a pout. “Noooo,” she whined.
I looped an arm through hers and pulled her to the door. Nature fairy rehab. Right. I should have taken a different job for the school holiday, but this paid the most. “Yes, yes and yes,” I muttered, wrestling her out the door. “It’s just a bit of cold, alright–whoa!”
She yanked her arm back from me, hugging both arms to herself as her teeth chattered. Her lovely blonde hair turned bright, neon blue and one olive-green eye had fluxed to royal blue. Her lips faded into purple as a faint sparkling tinge crept over her face. “You didn’t tell me it was cold, Cy!”
“It’s winter,” I growled. “Do I have to explain that winter is cold?”
The ski snapped beneath our combined weight. We only had time to look at each other, dumbfounded, while he voiced my thoughts better than I could: “Uh oh.”
I can’t go skiing since we have no snow, since the sun always comes up before any ice floor that shiny like mirror below those feet turn as hard as glass.
Nightfall covers me, like a lover’s rosy stain, I can’t help it. I’m all aglow. Lips are faint, I can’t contain the burst inside – like evening tide – a dance upon the sands. The colors cheer.
And there’s a hint of coral and turquoise in my ear and in my heart — a touch of silver and gold.
Long wait on the lift
Wind blows through darkened hair
Snow drops onto eyelashes
Cold ski poles stick to gloves
Trying not to let hands shake
Crunch slowly to the top of the hill
Whoosh down, laughing
Barely under control
Face plant at the bottom
Looking at the Diamond hill
with snow-covered bunny ears
Back to the lift…
“I’ve never done this before” she thought to herself as her eyes peered over the edge of the hill. Her skis felt tight around her feet, new, uncomfortable, daunting. The fake snow crunched beneath her as she pushed herself slowly to the edge while others whizzed by her, unafraid.
“It can’t be all that bad…”, she decided, pulling her ski poles out of the snow to glide her over, but then- “I’ve never done this before” she thought to herself as her eyes peered over the edge of the hill. Her skis felt tight around her feet, new, uncomfortable, daunting. The fake snow crunched beneath her as she pushed herself slowly to the edge while others whizzed by her, unafraid.
“It can’t be all that bad…”, she decided, pulling her ski poles out of the snow to glide her over, but then-
“Boo!” Aaron whooshed up behind her, his hands on her back to give her speed as she raced down the hill, frantically trying to control her movements with the poles. Trees miraculously flew by her instead of smashing into her face, the wind blowing back her strawberry hair, although Greta was more concerned about not clicking her skiis together and crashing into the ground.
She made it down the hill, miraculously unscathed, only to slow to a stop and promptly plop her face into the ground.
“Oops!” Aaron slid up beside her, pulling her up from the faux frozen tundra. “Might wanna sit down after that wipeout.”
Greta shook the snow from her hair, a bruise already starting to show on the tip of her nose. “You kidding? Let’s do that again!”
The girl knew she couldn’t leave through Tokyo, that would be too obvious. But Japan’s train network was ubiquitous enough to give her cover; – something she had learned years before by getting lost on a ski trip. And so she was now riding a single track, two carriage train to the backwoods of Nagano, where another train waited to take her to the Japan Sea coast at Niigata.
And, yes as we were sliding those hills of whites in fits of giggles I realized that Marco might possibly be the one. In the past it was hard, we has bumps in the road as big as the mountains behind us. But we made it this far, and we could make it forever.
When she reaches over to clean the inside of the coffee pot, I take mental notes. Her back is to me and I sip her spiked punch. I can’t even taste the vodka. I am sizing her up, wondering if instead of being a good wife, I can imitate one. I could be her; ski a few weekends of the year, be spontaneous, drink watered-down vodka, cleaning up our shared home on a Saturday night.
With my leg injury, I would never ski, snowboard, mountain climb, or even trek through a hillside of snow again. And really, winter, as well as its pastimes, were what kept me happy even during the summer months. Now all I could do was stumble up a slope once in a while with a makeshift cardboard sled, struggling to keep my balance so I didn’t tumble into a ditch. Because if I did, God help me, because I wouldn’t have the strength to crawl my way out.
In January I broke my leg skiing. I loved to ski. Since starting at the ripe old age of 24, I was terrified. It took many lessons, many good friends and many inches of snow to make me feel confident and calm on the slopes. That day was one of the strongest ski days I had had, but resulted in what will be my next stumbling block.
You ski down the couloir. I face the sky, waiting for thunder. You drop. A flash. A flake. Cold. I call up at the clouds, yell his name, and you fall in a sea of white.
his feet tumbled downhill like rockets and he felt his heart jump forward in his chest. eyes slapped open like a pair of flashlights, absorbing every second, every moment of detail, every speck of snow and blurry tree that tumbled out of his sight.
The man stood on top of the mountain, his eyes focusing on the ground below. He eagerly jumped up and down, and put on his skis. He pushed himself to the slope, and started skiing to the bottom, elated
i’ve never been skiing. just like with the ocean, i’m too scared of large bodies of water. plus, i’m barely agile on the land, imagine me in the water, and then imagine me on frozen water.
The man put on his skis, preparing for the competition in which he, and 4 other people would compete in, against other teams of 5, for a championship prize, a trophy an
“i’d like to ski,” she explained. “i just don’t think i’m physically capable of pulling it off without hurting myself.”
“well, you’re a pretty good dancer,” her friend replied. “i think you’re pretty coordinated.”
“are you kidding? i’m an incredible dancer,” she huffed.”but don’t forget…”
El cielo me relaja. Me gusta ver las nubes, me gusta mirar al sol, me gusta contar las estrellas. Mirar al cielo permite que veamos cosas que no se pueden ver en ninguna otra parte, cosas que en realidad, ni si quiera están allí. El cielo me intriga.
I have never been skiing. The wind whisks through the strands of hair escaping from my cap. I look down the long slope of ice and fear, the tips of my awkward extended feet balancing over the edge.
El cielo es una cosa interesante. Suele ser azul, pero en realidad, solo lo vemos azul porque vemos la galaxia tras él. Si la galaxia fuera roja, veríamos el cielo rosa. Me gustaría un cielo rosa. Todo quedaría más como parte de alguna película japonesa de esas que dan sueño.
My friend was a master and expert at skiing. In contrast, i was talented at surfing on the cool waves. she and i were not at a ll differnt, but we were sucessful in different thing, one day she fell and hurt her head on the slopes.
To ski off a mountain and glide through air, to fly through clouds without a care. To fall and still have no fear. Because I know you are still near. I may collapse and I may break, but there is nothing I can’t take. For you are always on my side and when there’s danger you hold me tight. Through the good times and the bad, you’re the one I knew I had. You created everything, including me and that’s why I can fly when I ski.
Okay Sunny I had no idea what to write for this one so I rhymed cause that’s easy. Kay bye .
It wasn’t something she had ever done before.
It looked dangerous – she loved it.
It looked a little boring. How does it feel to just keep going up and down hills?
It looked a little fun – maybe she’d try to ski then.
Maybe she’d like it.
An ending
To what has always been
That exhilarating jump
The soft whiteness
Your icy breath
My name in your mouth
It broke. I stood on it and it just snapped in half like a giraffe’s neck that’s bent in half. I had looked forward to this trip for such a long time since dad didn’t like spending time with me, but mom had forced him. I’m thankful for that. Thank you, mom. This is why I like you the most.
I’ve never been skiing in my life, nor do I have any desire to go. I’m the guy who’d end up on the news for dying/coming close to death during my first time on a ski slope. And it’d be on the beginner course too. Snowboarding I might consider. But skiing? Fuck that man. I’ll stick to soccer. I hurt myself enough during that thank you very much.
ski
I really like skiing. I think it’s pretty interesting but I’ve never tried it.
Slipping down the mountain in little to no actual ski gear was not exactly how I had intended to make my escape from The Facility but, well, best laid plans and all that.
When I learned to SKI
I’d years of seven and three
Numbered crashes…four.
The Sun bright and warm
Even when the hour was five
Restrained wind knots six.
-!Haiku-Mann!
The first time I ski is when I spent my time as an AFS student 2008 in USA.
I remember the joy of spending time with my friends: Roni, Bernardo, Vera, and Silvia.
I chose to numb myself to ensure freedom of pain. I take each step with caution and analyze every interaction. I am observant but not talented in the field of expression which leaves my thoughts to outweigh my words. I find comfort in writing because ideas become clear when given a chance to form.
I genuinely, genuinely care and that scares me.
“Sky?” Merrins squinted up at the blue sky–or rather, what she could see of it through the window of the ski lodge. “I don’t think it works that way, Cy.”
I tried not to roll my eyes and snapped my fingers in front of her face to regain her attention. “Not sky,” I said, taking care to speak slowly. “Ski.”
“S-ki?” she rolled the word around in her mouth and shook her head.
“You strap thin sticks to your feet and slide down steep hills with them,” I explained. “You also have little flexible sticks to steer with. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Her lip curled in the way that meant she was going to be stubborn, whether I wanted her to be or not. “No. No ski.”
“Merrins!”
The curled lip morphed into a pout. “Noooo,” she whined.
I looped an arm through hers and pulled her to the door. Nature fairy rehab. Right. I should have taken a different job for the school holiday, but this paid the most. “Yes, yes and yes,” I muttered, wrestling her out the door. “It’s just a bit of cold, alright–whoa!”
She yanked her arm back from me, hugging both arms to herself as her teeth chattered. Her lovely blonde hair turned bright, neon blue and one olive-green eye had fluxed to royal blue. Her lips faded into purple as a faint sparkling tinge crept over her face. “You didn’t tell me it was cold, Cy!”
“It’s winter,” I growled. “Do I have to explain that winter is cold?”
I have never seen myself like this.
The ski snapped beneath our combined weight. We only had time to look at each other, dumbfounded, while he voiced my thoughts better than I could: “Uh oh.”
I can’t go skiing since we have no snow, since the sun always comes up before any ice floor that shiny like mirror below those feet turn as hard as glass.
She wasn’t much for skiing, honestly, but the lodge was alright and the staff was hot so, yeah, maybe this vacation wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Nightfall covers me, like a lover’s rosy stain, I can’t help it. I’m all aglow. Lips are faint, I can’t contain the burst inside – like evening tide – a dance upon the sands. The colors cheer.
And there’s a hint of coral and turquoise in my ear and in my heart — a touch of silver and gold.
To ski, to fly
Down powdered lanes
Of glistening white
To fly, to race
Letting your weight
And instinct lead
To race, to see
Obstacles racing near
A blur as you pass
To see, to feel
The freedom of your flight
The oneness with the mountain
To feel, to love
The solidarity
One light, one night.
Long wait on the lift
Wind blows through darkened hair
Snow drops onto eyelashes
Cold ski poles stick to gloves
Trying not to let hands shake
Crunch slowly to the top of the hill
Whoosh down, laughing
Barely under control
Face plant at the bottom
Looking at the Diamond hill
with snow-covered bunny ears
Back to the lift…
I may have cheated by a few seconds, but I just couldn’t stop…
“I’ve never done this before” she thought to herself as her eyes peered over the edge of the hill. Her skis felt tight around her feet, new, uncomfortable, daunting. The fake snow crunched beneath her as she pushed herself slowly to the edge while others whizzed by her, unafraid.
“It can’t be all that bad…”, she decided, pulling her ski poles out of the snow to glide her over, but then- “I’ve never done this before” she thought to herself as her eyes peered over the edge of the hill. Her skis felt tight around her feet, new, uncomfortable, daunting. The fake snow crunched beneath her as she pushed herself slowly to the edge while others whizzed by her, unafraid.
“It can’t be all that bad…”, she decided, pulling her ski poles out of the snow to glide her over, but then-
“Boo!” Aaron whooshed up behind her, his hands on her back to give her speed as she raced down the hill, frantically trying to control her movements with the poles. Trees miraculously flew by her instead of smashing into her face, the wind blowing back her strawberry hair, although Greta was more concerned about not clicking her skiis together and crashing into the ground.
She made it down the hill, miraculously unscathed, only to slow to a stop and promptly plop her face into the ground.
“Oops!” Aaron slid up beside her, pulling her up from the faux frozen tundra. “Might wanna sit down after that wipeout.”
Greta shook the snow from her hair, a bruise already starting to show on the tip of her nose. “You kidding? Let’s do that again!”
The girl knew she couldn’t leave through Tokyo, that would be too obvious. But Japan’s train network was ubiquitous enough to give her cover; – something she had learned years before by getting lost on a ski trip. And so she was now riding a single track, two carriage train to the backwoods of Nagano, where another train waited to take her to the Japan Sea coast at Niigata.
And, yes as we were sliding those hills of whites in fits of giggles I realized that Marco might possibly be the one. In the past it was hard, we has bumps in the road as big as the mountains behind us. But we made it this far, and we could make it forever.
When she reaches over to clean the inside of the coffee pot, I take mental notes. Her back is to me and I sip her spiked punch. I can’t even taste the vodka. I am sizing her up, wondering if instead of being a good wife, I can imitate one. I could be her; ski a few weekends of the year, be spontaneous, drink watered-down vodka, cleaning up our shared home on a Saturday night.
With my leg injury, I would never ski, snowboard, mountain climb, or even trek through a hillside of snow again. And really, winter, as well as its pastimes, were what kept me happy even during the summer months. Now all I could do was stumble up a slope once in a while with a makeshift cardboard sled, struggling to keep my balance so I didn’t tumble into a ditch. Because if I did, God help me, because I wouldn’t have the strength to crawl my way out.
In January I broke my leg skiing. I loved to ski. Since starting at the ripe old age of 24, I was terrified. It took many lessons, many good friends and many inches of snow to make me feel confident and calm on the slopes. That day was one of the strongest ski days I had had, but resulted in what will be my next stumbling block.
Backwards or forwards or tangled or perfectly swan-like we all make it down the hill somehow. Gravity is a comforting constant. Snow is helpful.
You ski down the couloir. I face the sky, waiting for thunder. You drop. A flash. A flake. Cold. I call up at the clouds, yell his name, and you fall in a sea of white.
his feet tumbled downhill like rockets and he felt his heart jump forward in his chest. eyes slapped open like a pair of flashlights, absorbing every second, every moment of detail, every speck of snow and blurry tree that tumbled out of his sight.
One time in the 6th grade
I bumped into a ski pole
sort of like a cartoon character
I remember tumbling in the white artificial snow
laughing and crying
and mixture of hot tears of embarrassment
and stinging cold
The man stood on top of the mountain, his eyes focusing on the ground below. He eagerly jumped up and down, and put on his skis. He pushed himself to the slope, and started skiing to the bottom, elated
i’ve never been skiing. just like with the ocean, i’m too scared of large bodies of water. plus, i’m barely agile on the land, imagine me in the water, and then imagine me on frozen water.
The man put on his skis, preparing for the competition in which he, and 4 other people would compete in, against other teams of 5, for a championship prize, a trophy an
“i’d like to ski,” she explained. “i just don’t think i’m physically capable of pulling it off without hurting myself.”
“well, you’re a pretty good dancer,” her friend replied. “i think you’re pretty coordinated.”
“are you kidding? i’m an incredible dancer,” she huffed.”but don’t forget…”
El cielo me relaja. Me gusta ver las nubes, me gusta mirar al sol, me gusta contar las estrellas. Mirar al cielo permite que veamos cosas que no se pueden ver en ninguna otra parte, cosas que en realidad, ni si quiera están allí. El cielo me intriga.
I have never been skiing. The wind whisks through the strands of hair escaping from my cap. I look down the long slope of ice and fear, the tips of my awkward extended feet balancing over the edge.
El cielo es una cosa interesante. Suele ser azul, pero en realidad, solo lo vemos azul porque vemos la galaxia tras él. Si la galaxia fuera roja, veríamos el cielo rosa. Me gustaría un cielo rosa. Todo quedaría más como parte de alguna película japonesa de esas que dan sueño.
My friend was a master and expert at skiing. In contrast, i was talented at surfing on the cool waves. she and i were not at a ll differnt, but we were sucessful in different thing, one day she fell and hurt her head on the slopes.
To ski off a mountain and glide through air, to fly through clouds without a care. To fall and still have no fear. Because I know you are still near. I may collapse and I may break, but there is nothing I can’t take. For you are always on my side and when there’s danger you hold me tight. Through the good times and the bad, you’re the one I knew I had. You created everything, including me and that’s why I can fly when I ski.
Okay Sunny I had no idea what to write for this one so I rhymed cause that’s easy. Kay bye .
Alles ist weiß,
du hast das Gefühl –
von Freiheit.
Als ob du fliegen könntest.
Du spürst den Wind –
im Gesicht.
Die Welt rast an dir vorbei.
It wasn’t something she had ever done before.
It looked dangerous – she loved it.
It looked a little boring. How does it feel to just keep going up and down hills?
It looked a little fun – maybe she’d try to ski then.
Maybe she’d like it.