I completed the Czech original in April 2002 (I was 17).
I’ve made minor improvements, but most of it remains the same as in the original. Including the title.
Enjoy 😀
Her eyelids rose slowly.
She woke up lying in bed under the blackened canopy in their bedroom.
She felt like the last evening was just a dream, she couldn’t recall any details. But as soon as she sat up on the bed with only shreds from linen and pillows, which had to be filled with aluminium sawdust, she knew immediately that she wasn’t dreaming at all.
On the night table, there was a bell fashioned from wolfram. She ringed twice, sighed and stood up. She wasn’t feeling as worn as in the evening, sleep helped her to draw new strength.
She dressed in her mist robe and she sat down at the toilet table. She looked at her glacial face in the mirror, her almost white eyes like two frozen wells.
A knocking on the door echoed.
A maid entered and intended to change the bedding.
Looking at the mirror, she concluded that her lips are as chapped as over-frozen ice and her hands too rosy and dry. She rubbed in drift ice. Her hands regained a healthy bluish colour and her lips became smooth.
The maid finished her work and took away the blackened cloths. The ice lady looked towards the neatly made up bed dreamily and sighed again while she was brushing her dark blue hair, which were curling like mountain streams.
Where and how is her husband now?
He didn’t like to see her cold. But the coldness helped her to survive in his heat. She didn’t try to extinguish this fire. It would be pity if there wasn’t this passionate fire. It would be pity if it would be only a dream…
In the evening, she was reading a book sitting in bed. Suddenly, she heard steps behind the bedroom door and the slit under the door brightened with orange radiance. The handle lit up with yellow glow as he grasped it from the other side. A fervent devil entered the room. Ardent gleams were flashing in his dark-brown eyes, a play of desire and warm dark shades.
She put away the book and came to him. She leaned against him and he embraced her with his flaming arms. He slipped his hands downwards and grasped her buttocks and pressed her firmly against his body. A sigh of steam sounded in the air.
She let her hand slip into his black hair, which sparkled. She kissed his neck and he sighed with the sound of a blow in a forge. She could feel lashing of flames as he was undressing her from her mist robe. He laid her on the bed. She could feel hot kisses on her neck (and when I’m saying hot, I mean really hot), and the flaming tongue. Burning palms were caressing her breasts, her waist, her belly and breasts again. The flame ran from her neck down her belly, she sighed and steam of her sweat hissed. Now her turn.
She pushed him gently to lie on his back. Sparks of his excitement were dabbing off from his body and burning little holes through the bedding. The heat from his body was unweighting her, so she was almost floating above him like a cloud. She was kissing his sizzling chest and sliding with her tongue downwards. The water licked and encircled and girdled his white-heated flare, and flew around the glowing embers surrounding the flare.
The heat intensified.
Suddenly she was lying on her back again and fire was consuming the whole surface of her body. He was caressing her breasts, going over her belly, and licking the water from her well. Then she could feel the flare inside her, penetrating her deeper and deeper.
As more and more steam was evaporating, it started condensing above them and drops were falling to his back and fizzled. Two water-flowing legs emerged from below the glowing, flaming body and embraced it. The bed started catching on fire and when burning oil spilled all over, the scene disappeared in a flash of ignition.