The Frost
February 17th, 2021
Starring: Reese, Flint
Early morning, like 2am. A quite cold studio apartment, with no power. There’s a small flashlight on, illuminating Reese, sitting up in bed with a pencil and an open journal. They wear a sweater and a hoodie, surrounded by blankets.
Out the window, the winds blows in more snow, adding to the heavy blankets on the ground. From the streetlight streaming in, there’s a dark outline of Flint, sleeping on the couch. Reese looks up from their journal and looks over to the couch, speaking softly:
REESE
Are you awake?
Flint doesn’t move, but speaks:
FLINT (voice)
I’ve been up.
REESE
Oh.
Well I finished.
Page one, but I finished.
…
Can I read it?
FLINT (voice)
If you want.
REESE
Will you listen?
FLINT (voice)
I am.
REESE
You sure?
FLINT (voice)
I promise.
Reese shines the flashlight down on the journal, reciting aloud:
REESE
“Due South, my snow-steed runs. Legs jackhammering through the drifts, riding the wind’s tail. Icicles stud its dark mane. Frigid mist clashes against frothy breath.
They are dependable beasts. Sinewy automatons, equal parts mammal and machine. A product of two worlds, old and new.
I am miserable. I dream of the Fredericksburg e-express. I’d be hurtling at triple velocity, speeding past the rusted rigs, across the rolling Texan hills. A cabin to myself. A lukewarm shower. Tepid toddy and squirrel stew from the trolley. And a destination. McAllen by morning, guaranteed.
But then what? Broke at the border, with thousands of miles to go? I would lose ground by gaining it.
It feels too late. I’m losing feeling. The cold stings every sliver of exposed skin, curdling my blood. From the numb, I feel my head start shortening.
Two days. Two days until The Frost catches. Until it all ends.
None of this matters to my steed. It knows nothing of Frost, trains, skin, squirrels, and cities. All it knows is that it’s cold, and will be colder.
So due South, it runs. To the equator. To the warm. To the surviving.”
…
…
I thought it would work to jump right into the action. Build the world, explain it later.
…
FLINT (voice)
So what’s The Frost?
REESE
The weather. Like the climate has gotten so cold it kills everything.
FLINT (voice)
Why?
REESE
Carbon emissions due to overuse of fossil fuels.
It’s part of the backstory it’s a big part I’ll put in—
FLINT (voice)
So it’s in the future?
REESE
Yeah. But not that far—
FLINT (voice)
But there are horses?
REESE
Yeah. I mean, they’re part mechanical. As I explained. Tried.
It’s the future and it’s gotten more advanced but it’s also gotten less advanced because it’s gotten more apocalyptic.
FLINT (voice)
Because the weather is going to kill them.
REESE
Unless they make it to the equator. The Frost dies in the Southern hemisphere, so everyone’s mad dashing towards there.
FLINT (voice)
Right.
REESE
And that’s why everyone and everything is crazy and corrupt and bloody and seedy and...yeah. Adventurous.
FLINT (voice)
Got it.
So it’s kind of like Blade Runner meets The Road meets Snowpiercer meets The Dark Tower Trilogy meets steampunk Silent Spring?
REESE
I mean—it’s sort of my own brand.
FLINT (voice)
Don’t take that the wrong way. People love reimaginations of things they might already like. Those books sold millions.
REESE
No I know. I just don’t know if the goal is to publish.
I want to have fun with it. Do it for me, you know?
FLINT (voice)
...so what do you need from me?
REESE
I—I’m not sure—
FLINT (voice)
You need me to tell you if it’s good enough.
REESE
No. Nonono I think...I guess I wanted to share. Outwardly. Get some sign to go on.
FLINT (voice)
Well...I think it’s good.
REESE
You think?
FLINT (voice)
I mean, don’t get it twisted. The prose is rocky, the plot’s obscure, and I doubt you have the execution to pull it off.
But we’re in a frost. You’re cold, alone, and hearing voices.
So it is good. It’s great. Whatever keeps the warm.
...
Go on.
Reese pauses, then shines the flashlight over to the couch. It’s a mess of pillows and quilts, not Flint. Reese looks out the window, then back down to the journal. They flip the page, steady their pencil, and continue on.