December watched the leaves twirl through the air, drifting down to land around her and occasionally upon her. Every once in awhile one would land on her face and she’d blow on it till it twirled away. A little voice reminded her she’d have hell to pay when her mother found her. But, laying there, beside her pond, on a soft bed of  fallen leaves and withering grass, she didn’t care. Life was too short to spend every minute filling out college forms and cramming for tests.
    Rolling to her side she trailed her finger over the surface of the water, smiling as the ripples disrupted her reflection. Here, at the water’s edge, she felt at home. As if something was drawing her there. The same little voice from before warned her that she wasn’t supposed to be there, rumors surrounded the pond. A lot of people had drowned here. Supposedly lured in by a water spirit, the ghost of a girl lost long ago to the depths and murk of Twilight Pond.
    Her plan wasn’t to swim in it though. The teenage girl could spend hours watching petals, white as innocence, or leaves, red as sin; float across the cloudy water. Summer days slipped away, lying there in the shimmering green grass. Fall flew by, snuggled in the vibrant colors of fallen leaves. In the winter December liked to test herself. She would walk out on the frozen water, and each year she got  a little further. During spring, birds watched her slide out over the water on a branch hanging off an apple tree, plucking petals and watching them glide down to land on the pond, so still it could have been a mirror.
    It was funny though, as December stared down into the water it was like her face was merging with another, two reflections fighting for the same space. But that was impossible, she was the only one here. She was always the only one here.
    Curious, the girl peered harder, trying to discern her own features from the second face, seeming to float just below the surface. Sliding her fingers over the glass like stillness December watched as her reflection became rippled and unclear but the other image, a woman, stayed clear and vivid. As the ripples settled December sat back on her heels. Taking deep breaths she tried to process what she had just seen. Surely it was just her imagination. Too many hours lying around breathing lake fumes had caused this.
    Hesitantly, December peered into the water, the face was still there. She smacked the surface of the pond, blurring her own image and tried to remember the features of the woman locked in the watery vault.
    Curly, raven colored locks, crimson lips, skin as pale as cream, green eyes, darker than the lush pines that surrounded the water’s edge. By the time the pond settled December was sure she wasn’t imagining things. There was someone down there. but the face didn’t look anything like the other bodies previously found in the pond. It’s skin wasn’t bluish and frozen, it’s body wasn’t bloated with water.
    It-she, December corrected herself, seems so alive. Once again she brushed her fingers over the glass like water. THe woman seemed to mirror her actions, exactly like a reflection. Bolder, but still a little timid, she slipped her shaking fingertips beneath the surface of the cool water. December drew in a sharp breath at the feel of the pond-woman’s fingertips brush against her. Absently her other hand reached to fondle her favorite necklace. Four keys intricately woven in thin strips of black leather. A treasure she had found laying along the pond’s edge almost eleven years ago.
    At six years old December’s family had uprooted and left big New York City and moved to the quiet woods of Maine. Upon arrival, the first thing the timid child noticed was the utter lack of youth. In the small community everyone always seemed tired and aged beyond their years. As if something was draining the life out  of them. And there were no children. No screams and giggles running through the streets, the only time the playground moved was when the winds were strong enough to breach the surrounding forest and cause the swings to creak back and forth, and the merry-go-round would spin in slow, solemn circles groaning like an old man’s joints on a cold winter night.
    While the movers carried boxes and furniture into the cabin that would soon be her home, December watched with her forehead pressed against the frosty glass of the attic window. Her thin, spindly legs pulled up beneath her skirt on the window seat, watching her new life begin.
    That night while her parents unpacked the kitchen December explored the backyard. Her neon green winter coat and fluorescent orange hat and gloves made her look like a glow in the dark snowman amidst the towering trees and fat white flakes falling from the sky.
    The porchlight cast a warm circle across the yard and cut through the first of the trees. December wandered through the yard and meandered through the trees, never leaving the light.
    Breathing heavily from the exertion of carrying all the extra weight of her thick winter shields, December leaned against a trunk twice the size of her miniscule frame. facing away from the house she peered into the dark forest.
    Was it her imagination? Or was the ground really shimmering, just beyond, in what seemed like a clearing. Intrigued, the small girl made her way towards the place where it seemed the ground sparkled and shifted. The closer she got the more curious she became. Soon her pace quickened and she was sprinting; but then she began to slip, sliding across the 'clearing'. As she scrambled to catch her footing December fell to her hands and knees; and that's when she heard it. The crack.
            Breathing shallowly she began to inch her way back. Reality was now pounding down on her like a hammer to the head of a nail. This wasn't a magic clearing or a shimmering field. This was a pond, frozen by Jack Frost's icy breath and chilling fingers. It may have been layered in ice but it was fragile as glass. December was afraid that one wrong move would send her in for an ice bath of epic proportions. And what about her parents? Would they ever find her? Would they ever know the truth?
             Determination washed over the young girl. She couldn't do that to them, she wouldn't. Millimeter by millimeter December gained ground; the rocky, snow-dusted shore getting closer and closer. Her whole body was rigid and tense. Her breathing was light and feathery, trying to make as little noise as possible so as to be able to discern even the tiniest sound of fracturing ice. At last her hands hit the edge, the pain of jagged pebbles digging into the soft skin of her childish hands was truly a relief.
            Using her arms she cautiously scooted herself closer to safety. Tears slid down her flushed cheeks, December grit her teeth as she attempted to block out the pain of the knife-like stones slicing open her palms. After what seemed like eternity December felt her legs slide off the pond. A cry of joy escaped her lips as she collapsed against the solid ground.
              Her tiny body shuddered with a mix of sobs and shivers. She knew she needed to get home and soon. But she was so cold, she couldn't move. Her voice cracked and squeaked as she attempted to cry out for help.

        December had woken up the next day in the hospital; her parents worried faces watching over her, sighing with relief as her eyelids fluttered open and her blue tinged lips parted. By the end of the day she was sitting up and talking, doing well as far as the doctors were concerned. Everybody asked a lot of questions. "Why did she walk away from the house?" "Why did she go towards the pond?" "Why hadn't she tried to get home?" The child attempted to answer the questions; but she was tired, frightened, and ill. She didn't have much to offer. Finally her mother told the sleepy, little girl that they only had one more question before she could rest.
     Her father raised a necklace from his pocket. "Where did you find this?"
     December had never seen the enchanting piece before, and told them so. Now it was her turn to ask some questions. "Why had they thought it was hers?" "Where had they found it?" "Where did it come from?" Slowly they began to fill her in on how they had found her curled up at the water's edge, the necklace lying beside her. No one from the town could identify it, and it wasn't her mothers, so they had assumed she had found it near the pond.

          Now as December peered into the water, brushing hands with the woman under the surface, she wondered if the necklace had been hers. Maybe that was why she was reaching out to her...
       December visited the pond every day for the rest of autumn. Getting bolder and bolder every time. Sometimes she even attempted conversation with the water woman. Though she never verbally responded the teenager felt that the once-young woman understood emotion; and thoughtfulness filled her forest green eyes. The 17 year old found herself telling her everything, how she wasn't ready to go away to college, but couldn't wait to be rid of this tiny town. How she hated spending all her time thinking about school and her udder lack of social life but a scholarship was her ticket out and all the people in her school were dumb anyways.
    Hours were spent confiding in the mysterious woman. December had never been more content, and she didn’t think it could ever end. But then came The Night, a night so bitterly cold it broke records across the country. The next morning found December stumbling down to the pond, hoping and praying that her precious safe haven hadn,t been affected by Mother Nature’s frosty mood. Despair contorted the girl’s pretty features when she saw the layer of ice coating the lake to its center, all but a ring in the middle covered.
    Tears froze in the corner’s of December’s ice blue eyes, she knew what the freezing of the pond meant. She would have to wait weeks, months before she could see her watery confident again. All that time she would be waiting, watching the pond, willing it to thaw. No, she had to say goodbye; had to see the water woman one last time before spring. Cautiously at first December edged her way towards the center of the pond. Slowly at first, but gradually more eagerly. Nothing had ever felt more right to the invigorated teen. The closer she got to the center, the more free, the more empowered she felt. Soon the ring of water was only feet away, then inches, eventually December looked down into the murky pond. A smile spread across her face as she saw the familiar sight of her features blending with the image of another. She bent down to tell the woman goodbye, how she would be back in the spring, and promised not to forget her.
    That’s when December heard it. The crack. Memories of her first night on the pond came rushing back, just as the water rushed up to meet her.