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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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A Cup Full of Humble Fragrance #755105 added June 17, 2012 at 9:34pm
Restrictions: None
Ice Marshall (June 17 - Ice)
Cold air slapped Adrian’s face as soon as he opened the cabin door of Ice Marshall, a painstakingly equipped oceanic-expedition boat, tiny but sturdy enough to slink its way through the Arctic ice.
Adrian's usually cheerful features were cloaked by a frown and tight lips.“Masts down, secure everything on deck!” he shouted. Although the sea was calm, the readings from the instruments had disturbed him. Trouble’s lurking ahead, he thought, as the crew rushed to lower the masts and haul the equipment inside with the efficiency of worker ants.
The mission was ordered after NASA satellites had pinpointed an ice-island, massive as a mountain, that the currents were driving toward northernmost Canada and threatening populated towns and shipping routes. Ice Marshall's task was to implant gauging and meteorological equipment into the ice, so its route could be predicted accurately.
Less than a half an hour later, ice floes appeared and fog started to descend. Soon enough, the boat had to inch its way through the ice-choked waters.
Suddenly, the fog intensified and ice-packs squeezed tightly against the vessel. Fields of ice turned blue around the ship, then changed to violet, green and subtle tints of other colors..
“Ice-island at starboard!” Someone shouted from the deck. For a second or two electronics sparked, then fizzled, but came back.
“We found it.” Adrian whistled. “But it’s difficult to go near it in the fog.”
A mile off the starboard bow, a gargantuan, floating ice-mountain appeared, radiating color like a new-born supernova, glowing from its internal crystallized frigidity.
“This ice-mountain has voice,” Scott Mitchell, the logistics support engineer, said.
True enough, the ice against the ship crackled, moaned, snapped, and roared. At times, it even wailed and cried.
“Let me go in the landing-craft with a couple of men, Mark and Eddy maybe, and see what we can do,” Eric, the geospatial analyst, offered. “The fog is lifting little by little.”
“That could be,” Adrian said. “Wait a little while longer until it clears completely."
Antonia Ryan, the blonde with the computerized binoculars-a biogeoinformatics expert, pointed to the side of the ice. “The ice and the snow seem contaminated; it’s even visible to the bare eye, look.”
Scott peeked out of the window, then took the binoculars from Antonia. “I see what you mean. It has a different, pinkish, brownish color at the base.”
“That shows contamination, which means living beings are on this mountain..”
“What the heck!” Adrian murmured, looking at the screen in front of him. “Bio-Spectrometer sensors detect life inside the ice.”
“I don’t get it. Inside? Could it be on top?”
“No, Antonia. Inside. Deep down. Hard to believe.”
“It can be the polar bears on top,” Eric said. “They must be stranded.”
Adrian pointed to the computer. “No, it’s in there, inside, according to this. Two aircrafts landed and took off several times from the top already. I’m wiring the data to the institute. They’ll know if this is an instrument malfunction.”
There was, however, no instrument malfunction. When repeated, the computer again detected life inside that mountain of ice. By this time, the fog had lifted and the scientists piled in the landing-craft and reached a small drumlin on the ice-island..
As soon as they waddled out of the craft, the ice started rumbling. “It must be an underground volcano,” Scott said.
“Back on the raft, quick!” Adrian cried. “We are clearing out. I can’t risk lives and expensive equipment.”
They rushed back to the landing-craft. As soon as they were halfway between the glacier and the expedition vessel, the ice-mountain cracked lengthwise and a claw of ice scraped and pushed the crack fully open.
The scientists gasped in shock. The creature howled.
The dragon-like ice-monster stepped toward the craft. Eric pushed the button to rev the craft toward the boat. His fingers and his whole body shook as if electrified.
***
Breaking News-Reuters: Ice Marshall, the oceanic studies expedition boat has been lost near the Sunalmuk Glacier, at the Arctic Circle. Seven men and two women scientists plus a crew of six were on the boat. Several aircrafts and search parties have been sent after the communications were interrupted with the vessel. So far, the search has been unsuccessful.
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Prompt: Ice |
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