The Cracking Ice

The frozen leg cracked beneath his feet, sending a deafening snap echoing across the lifeless tundra. Caleb froze, his breath billowing in the frigid air like ghosts escaping his lungs. Beneath him, the ice groaned—a deep, hollow sound that hinted at the deadly abyss below. He couldn’t see the water, but he knew it was there, waiting to swallow him whole.

“Move!” Lena’s voice cut through the whistling wind. She stood on the bank, barely visible through the curtain of falling snow, her arms waving frantically. “Don’t just stand there, Caleb!”

He wanted to move. His body screamed at him to take a step, to inch closer to safety, but his boots felt glued to the ice. It wasn’t just fear holding him there—it was the sight of the leg.

The leg, frozen in the ice, pale and grotesque, like a marble statue carved by a madman. He’d spotted it a moment before he heard the crack. A man’s leg, severed cleanly at the knee, still encased in the tattered remnants of a snow-soaked pant leg. It pointed upward, as if reaching for the world above, a macabre relic from a tragedy long buried under the ice.

“Caleb!” Lena’s voice broke through his trance. He shifted his weight, and the ice beneath him shifted too. A fissure spiderwebbed out from the severed leg, radiating toward his trembling boots.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, his voice shaking. He crouched low, spreading his weight as evenly as he could, and began to inch toward the bank. The ice screamed with every movement, but it held—for now.

Lena reached for him as he neared the edge. Her gloved hand closed around his wrist and, with a grunt, she hauled him onto solid ground. They collapsed together in a heap, gasping for air, their breaths mingling in the frozen air.

“What the hell was that?” she panted, pointing toward the ice. The leg was barely visible now, shrouded by the swirling snow.

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know. But someone was out there. Or… part of someone.”

Lena’s face paled. “You think it’s recent?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t make sense. This ice has been frozen solid for decades.”

Lena stood, brushing snow off her coat. “We need to tell someone. The rangers, maybe. Or—”

Her words were cut off by another crack. Louder this time. They turned to look at the ice. The fissure had widened, spreading across the frozen lake like an unraveling thread. The severed leg tilted, as if being pulled by an unseen force, and then it disappeared into the depths.

The wind howled around them, carrying with it a sound that made their blood run colder than the air—a low, guttural moan, rising from beneath the ice.

“We need to go,” Caleb whispered, grabbing Lena’s arm. “Now.”

But as they turned to leave, the moaning grew louder. It wasn’t just one voice—it was many. Dozens, maybe hundreds, all crying out from beneath the ice.

And then, as the first shadow appeared beneath their feet, they realized the frozen lake wasn’t just a resting place for the dead.

It was their prison.

Tonya

@Tonya

Boise idaho

Tonya has not written a story.