The Snow Queen glided through the biting wind that protected her castle of ice, returning to her stolen boy. The warmer countries had been torched with cold flames of snow and the queen felt quite satisfied with her work. She passed through her front door, wincing at the sharpness of the cutting air and took to the frosted staircase. She couldn’t see the boy. He must be playing by the lake, she thought. He was a good boy, quiet and clever. She recalled the day she first saw the magical mirror shards embedded in his eye and his heart. They glimmered like frozen droplets reflected the sun, and she knew he was enchanted, ripe for the taking. He was just as she had pictured her own son to be. Blonde hair, blue eyes, mischievous grin, brave and a little wild. She knew he would be happy with her in this beautiful land of snow and ice. He loved her sled, she could tell. It was bigger than that of the other children, pure white, carved by a woodsman from the great Taiga forest and encrusted with the finest crystals from the Galdhopiggen mountain. She had sung to him her favourite lullaby as they rode towards her castle and every day since. He had never complained, never tried to leave and was obedient just like she had bade. The Snow Queen changed into a slender white dress that looked like it has been made from millions of star-shaped flakes. Her beauty shined like glittering ice and her skin did not seem to age, but there was something about her that looked sad and fragmented. Picking up an opaque shawl, she called out for her boy. “Kay?”. No answer. This was unlike him, the Snow Queen thought. He always answered. “Kay?”. No answer. She broke into a run. Calling his name frantically, all that answered her were empty echoes. Her boy was gone. Just like her betrothed before him. Gone. Slicing wind whirled against her pale skin and she fought against the frozen raindrop shards. Staggering and blinded by the darkness, the Snow Queen collapsed, clawing at the edges of the frozen lake. She pulled herself across the shards of her own making and up into a throne of ice. The Snow Queen sat on her frozen throne, gazing into the eye of the fractured lake, and at last she understood the meaning of her haunted lullaby. Where roses freeze so crisply in the garden, there shall you find the dream child, without fail. And she sat there, grown-up, but a maiden, still-maiden at heart. And it was winter, frozen, endless winter.
Submitted by: Sommer Casey