Icicle One
The Message

The white feather quill pen flies over the smooth surface of the paper, sugarly and poisedly etching words. The artist she was, she swiftly and silently writes her words down. The first, middle, and final words. The only one's she would really ever need. She makes a couple strokes before the pen dives back into the black abyss and she continues on her task. The words had been crafted from the heart, and then polished and sanded until the gems they were shone. When she finishes, she looks at her craftsmanship; it was final now, etched in stone. She slowly lets a smile form upon her face. Standing up, she puts her message into an unsuspecting ivory white envelope and seals it. This paper had no clue of its importance in her life. With the same precision as before, she puts his name on the front of it. She quickly puts on her coat and grabs the message before traveling the distance to his house. She reaches her destination, then takes a deep breathe trying to compile and rally her courage. He wasn't home. That was a good thing for her; it made this so much easier. She gingerly walks the few feet to his doorstep. She approaches the door cautiously, as a mouse would a baited mousetrap. Silently like the wind, she slips the envelope through the thin slot. She backs away, taking another breath. She did it. Running to the car, her heart beats faster and erratically, but the smile on her face remains constant. When he got home, he would know. Even if he didn't feel the same, he would know. He didn't know or maybe he did, at the moment it didn't matter because it would be official once he read the message. And that message said all it needed to say. Perfect and precise were her words. And they were simply "I love you."

Icicle Two
Raindrops

She sighed, the silver raindrops slowly falling around her. They were cool and crisp. She was standing underneath an old willow tree. Cautiously, she walks out from under the tree's comforting protection and the raindrops fall on her. She could feel each drop after each drop, one by one, getting her clothes wet. She looks around the park before smiling. Feeling a sudden surge of happiness, she starts twirling and twirling in the rain, getting more dizzy with each spin. She finally colapses and sits in the drenched grass, her clothes fully soaked. She looks about her, but stops when she sees a dark shadow in the near distance. Her eyes narrow, trying to make out the figure. It comes closer and a smile slowly appears on her face. It was him. He had been gone for way too long in her opinion. He sets something down on the ground, and she starts running to him, his arms wide open, ready to accept her. He hugs her and holds her in his arms, never wanting to let her go again. He had missed her so much and now that he had her again, the longing and wanting his arms once had were gone. She was back where she belonged, in his arms. Both of them had missed each other. He gives her the dozen red roses he had bought. She happily accepts giving him a kiss on the cheek. She grabs his hand, sets the roses at the base of the willow tree, then drags him out in the rain, which had become stronger. Laughing, twirling, and smiling, they catch up on the time they had missed.

Icicle Three
Innocent Wings

It's wings flip silently in the wind. Saying nothing, the small creature speaks volumes. Crafted of the purest black with a rainbow woven into its wings. It is the signature of innocence. It's wings so fragile and it's body so frail. It is the butterfly. Strong with its indifference, creating change with the simple flipping of its wings. It knows of its importance, yet keeps quiet, preferring quiet change. It does so much, but its high position doesn't affect it. It still retains its innocence. Taking off from the yellow flower, the tiny butterfly flies into the sunset. A model of all that is pure, good, and innocent.

Icicle Four
What's In A Name

What's in a name. Analyze mine. Ice is the cold glare you give your boyfriend when you find out he's cheated on you. The icy stare that pierces the soul and tears you limb from limb. It sends chills of fear down your spine. A single thing that hurts a thousand times worse then words ever could. Ice is intense hurt when it touches your already freezing skin, freezing the cells one by one. It's a deep pain. Ice is the intense pleasure you get when ice touches your burning skin on a hot day. The sensual feeling of elation when the coldness touches hot flesh. The shivers invading your every sense. Ice freezes time, suspending all life. Ice is a frozen moment, capturing all within. Ice preserves every detail. It can create change little by little. Ice carves mountains to suite it's needs and turns the hardest of rocks to sand. Dangerous and exciting, it captures you for a reason you can't explain. Slowly sneaking up on you and then when you least expect it, it overtakes you. That is Ice. So what's in a name? Everything.