Ice is the greatest of all of natures liars. It looks smooth, wet, accommodating. Snow, though beautiful, is dangerous without concealing the hazardous potential it controls. Ice hides, giving itself names that denote the potential for betrayal. Black Ice, the greatest of all the winter liars. Today, the black Ice converged upon my little corner of the world, turning normal roads into demolition courses, and sending untold numbers of people to either the hospital or the morgue. Black Ice is a killer, of that you can be sure.

I waited until the majority of the carnage had been exacted before venturing out. My path to the office riddled with broken vehicles that were fooled by the Ice into a false idea of ease before it reached up out of the darkness and took tons of metal and with one little swish, turned it from a vehicle, to a carcass. Broken bits of fenders and bumpers jutted up from the sides of the road as if they were reaching out form benevolence. Benevolence is something to which Black Ice holds no claim.

I drove with my hands at ten and two, kept the radio volume down low, and looked far ahead along my chosen pathway. I did this not because I do not trust my own driving skills, but because the killer was obviously out and about and would strike without any warning. When dealing with the uncontrollable, it is best to set your sights and move forward knowing that the potential for mishap is always looming round the next bend.

Tonight, as the darkness of night settles along Riverdale, the Black Ice will dance; running its cold touch along places reclaimed by water and salt during the day. Tomorrow the light will once again try to penetrate the clouds, and in the darker places the killer will be lurking, waiting for the bravado of those who fail to recognize that when paired against the harsh reality of creation itself, nature will always be there waiting for the one foolish mistake in which it pronounces its ownership over the world.