Member-only story
Where the Cold Waits for Love
Flash Fiction Prompt | May 2025
She held the compass like it was his heart; fragile, trembling, and no longer pointing north. The maps were all that remained of him now, stained with old coffee, smudged ink, and the last place he was seen:
“Milne Land”.
They had planned this journey together — talked of snowbound peaks, northern lights, and quiet nights into each others embrace for warmth.
But the storm came early and he vanished, swallowed by the white silence of the Arctic, leaving behind only coordinates and a cracked radio that whispered her name.
Now, years later, she sat alone with his gloves, his camera, and a love that refused to die. Each mountain etched on the map felt like a scar across her chest. Still, she traced the route with aching hope, her finger stopping where his voice last broke.
“If I disappear,” he once said, “follow the cold. That’s where I’ll be — waiting.”
And she did.
