Some Things Last a Rise of the Guardians story by Miss Scarlett Leigh.
Full Plot Summary: Gwyn Bennett was cursed. She had not a wrinkle on her face, a gray hair on her head, or a bag under her eye. Her skin felt as smooth and supple as it had thirty years ago— a curse in disguise. Yet even as Gwyn's curse took away everything she loved her mother, Sophie Bennett, remained silent.
On her deathbed at age eighty-two, Sophie presents her daughter with an old diary that may shed light on the answers Gwyn so desperately seeks. The stories inside will take Gwyn on a journey through her mother's childhood, unlock the secrets to Sophie's well-guarded past, and raise new questions about a mysterious guy named "Jack Frost."
March 20th, 2093
Tucson, Arizona. A fierce blizzard battered the stucco walls and rattled the clay shingles of Pleasant Plains nursing home. The storm coated the arid, brown streets with such a thick blanket of white, Gwyn Bennett could hardly tell the difference between the world outside and the one within: white walls, white-tile floors, white linens.
Gwyn stood in a square room— small and cramped. Her mother's bed, and the tangle of tubes coiled around its frame, consumed most of the space. It was a quite ward. Only the steady beep, beep of the cardiac monitor punctuated the silence. Outside, however, a symphony of howling winds swirled across the plains, bringing with it a storm the likes of which Tucson had never seen before.
A lacy layer of frost spread its tendrils across the window pane, shielding Gwynn's view. She tried to rub it clean with her sleeve, but it only made her clothes wet. "Stupid snow..." she muttered beneath her breath. "Quit following me."
Gwyn eyed the frost-covered window irritably, but a moan from the bed drew her attention back to the reason why she'd flown to Tucson in the first place.
"What are you looking at, Gwyn?" Her mother asked in a strained, hoarse voice.
"Just the snow." Gwyn replied tentatively and took a step closer to the edge of the bed. "Can I do anything for you, Mom? Is there something we can talk about?"
The old woman fell silent and turned her head away. A familiar deflating feeling, like air leaking out of a popped balloon, settled in Gwyn's stomach.
"Thought so...," sullenness clung to her sigh. It had been almost ten years sense she'd set foot in the United States— ten years sense she'd last seen her mother— yet the tension from their last fight still hung in the air like a storm-cloud, filling the room with an icy chill.
"Nick was supposed to be here..." Gwyn muttered, folding her arms across her chest. "He promised me he'd be here when I arrived." Nick, her youngest brother, lived in Tucson with his wife and three lovely children. Gwyn exchanged letters with them, and her brother Jackson, often— but that was all— no Christmas gatherings, no Easter Sundays, no family reunions.
Gwyn cast a defeated glance at her reflection in the frost-coated window— the reflection that so many coveted, yet she'd grown to despise. She had thick, brunette hair, pale skin, and ice-blue eyes. She'd been called beautiful by many, but the only thing Gwyn Bennett saw herself as...was cursed.
She was born fifty years ago, on the first day of Winter, 2042. Fifty years ago... Gwyn thought miserably and studied her reflection. She had not a wrinkle on her face, a gray hair on her head, or a bag under her eye. Her skin felt as smooth and supple as it had ten, twenty, no, thirty years ago. All told, Gwyn didn't look a day older than twenty-five— a curse in disguise.
Bitterness tightened in her throat as she eyed her mother's frail body snuggled beneath the linens. Sophie Bennett had been beautiful in her day too, with golden hair and bright-green eyes, but she aged like normal people. Her flaxen hair dulled and grayed. Her skin thinned, eye-sight dissipated, and ever-so quickly, she'd been forced into a nursing home to die...
And once Sophie Bennett died, all her secrets died with her.
Once Sophie Bennett died, Gwyn would be alone to bear the burden of a curse she knew nothing about— a curse that had taken away everything she loved, including her husband and her figure skating career, and forced her into a nomadic lifestyle.
"Gwyn?" Her mom wheezed. "Gwyneira?"
"Yes, Mom," she replied with haste. "I'm here."
Her mother's breathing was short and unsteady. Her eyelids flickered as she struggled to sit up.
"Stay still, Mom." Gwyn reached over and placed a hand on Sophie's shoulder. Her mother shivered at the touch. "I'll call for a nurse."
Her mother obeyed. She settled back down, and began to mutter something in a horse tone. "It was a British colony, settled by fur traders moving west toward the Great Lakes. The year was 1712."
"Mom?" Gwyn fixed her mother with a quizzical look.
"An early blizzard struck the valley," Sophie continued, "a death sentence for the settlers, but they'd traveled so far inland, they couldn't turn back. The colonists hulled up in their cabins to wait out the storm."
Her mind is going too... Gwyn thought. She gently reached to touch her mom's hand. "I can call for the nurse. She said you can have as much medicine as you want."
The old woman nodded and pressed on with her story. "Among the settlers was a boy of eighteen— a young man in those days— but he was a restless spirit. Though the storm kept him locked inside the cabin he shared with his parents and little sister, he still managed to find ways to have fun. He taught his sister to play hopscotch and games with rocks and sticks. When the winds let up, he gathered the village children together in the barn and told them stories about an Indian princess and the old deer who was King of the Forest..."
The nurse entered— a young, Hispanic woman named Marcia. "There, there Ms. Sophie," she cooed as she fiddled with the monitors and pipes in the corner. "No need for anyone to suffer."
"It was weeks before the storm passed," her mother continued as if in a trance, "but when it did, the boy left the village first. He promised to take his sister ice skating. There was a pond not far from the village, but a thin layer of snow masked how brittle the ice was toward the center. The sister skated too close, and the ice began to crack beneath the little girl's feet.
"'I'm scared,' she said, but the boy told her not to be afraid. 'You have to believe in me.' He fought to mask his own fear and hopped across the pond to where he'd set his staff. 'Your turn,' he told her. It was just like hopscotch— but in a moment of panic, the ice started to give way, and the boy lunged forward with the crook of his staff. He wretched his sister away from the breaking ice— but when he regained his balance, the boy fell through instead.
"The next morning, and for many mornings afterward, the villagers searched the pond for a body— but they never found one."
Gwyn didn't know how to respond. Where did that come from, she wondered? Such a depressing story...
The window rattled as a fresh gust blew against the pane. Snow fell in all directions. Gwyn closed her eyes and listened to the noise. It sounded painful— almost like a cry.
"Gwyneira," her mom winced and shifted beneath the sheets. She waved a weak arm toward a black bag hanging on a coat-rack in the corner.
"Your bag?" Gwyn reached for the black-leather tote.
The old woman nodded. "There's a book inside. A book I want you to read."
Gwyn's fingers wrapped around the spine of a leather-bound diary, hundreds of pages thick. Gooey spots dotted its surface where star-shaped stickers had been rubbed away; a large coffee splotch tinted the bottom right corner a darker shade of brown.
"You never told me you kept a diary," Gwyn whispered. She drew a plastic green chair up alongside her mom's bed and reverently opened the diary in her lap.
"Could you read it?" her mom croaked in a voice Gwyn hardly recognized.
"Do you want me to read aloud?" she replied. Her curiosity peaked.
The old woman nodded with a heavy sigh.
Gwyn swallowed hard and began in a voice that shook with nervous anticipation. "The inside cover reads, 'this diary belongs to Sophie Bennett. No boys aloud. Except Jamie and Jack Frost.'" Gwyn laughed at her mom's childish mannerism. "Haha, but the word 'Jamie' has been crossed out. There's a picture too..."
An odd picture, Gwyn thought as she observed the smiling faces of two children, a brunette boy with wide brown eyes, and a small, blonde girl of five or six. "You and Uncle Jamie?" Gwyn guessed. The two children posed with their arms wrapped around the air— little Sophie at waist level and Jamie at shoulder-height— like a third person stood between them.
"Is there supposed to be someone in the middle?" Gwyn leaned the book over her mom's bed and pointed at the photograph pasted inside. To her horror, her mom let out a painful sob and turned away. Tears streaked down Sophie's pale, wrinkled face as Gwyn pulled back.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No!" her mom insisted in a tone just below a bark. "Please." She pointed to the dairy.
"Okay," Gwyn rolled her eyes and flipped a thin, yellow page to the first entry scribbled in sparkling purple crayon. "Here it goes." She licked her lips and sighed, "the first entry is from..."
Christmas Day, 2016
This is my diary. Jamie gave it to me because I like to draw and write. It's a good present, but not as good as the bike without training wheels Mommy and Daddy gave me. It's a pink bike with purple handles. It has a basket on the front too. I wanted to ride it outside, but Mommy said it was too icy. That's Jack's fault.
Jamie and I went to play outside with Jack, and I got mad at him for making it icy. I think he felt bad, so I said sorry, and we went sledding on the hill in Burgess Park, which was way more fun than riding bikes anyway. Jack always knows how to have the most fun.
I like spring, and summer when we go to the beach, but I like winter the most because that's when Jack comes. I miss Jack a lot when he's gone, because he's probably my second-best friend. He can't be my first-best friend because he was Jamie's best friend first. Besides, Caroline would be sad if I told her she wasn't my first-best friend.
Caroline likes Jack too. All the kids in the neighborhood do. I think they get jealous sometimes because Jack spends so much time with Jamie and me, but that's because Jamie believed in Jack first.
I was only three when the guardians came to Burgess, so I don't remember much, but Jamie tells me about it all the time, and Jack too if I ask him. I hope someday I can have an adventure with Jack like Jamie did. They saved the world together with Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and the Sandman. I love them all, and they're my friends too.
I will never stop believing in the guardians. I crossed my heart and pinky swore to Jack that I would never stop, because if you stop believing, you can't see him anymore.
I would be very sad if I couldn't see Jack anymore. I love him as much as Jamie and Mommy and Daddy and Abby. Merry Christmas.
XOXO,
Sophie Elizabeth Bennett
Six-year-old Sophie decorated the page beside the entry with a drawing of children sledding down a hill. Two girls, a blonde and a ginger, shared one sled. They raced passed a brunette boy— a young Uncle Jamie, Gwyn guessed— and a curious looking pale boy with hair so white her mom had outlined it in gray to distinguish it from the snowy backdrop.
"Is this the 'Jack' you mentioned?" Gwyn pointed to the picture and leaned over to show her mother. "This boy on the sled?"
Her mom nodded and fidgeted. Gwyn thought she saw the glint of a tear welling in Sophie's eye.
"So... you had an imaginary friend named Jack Frost?" Gwyn joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Did he ever nip at your nose?"
Sophie didn't laugh. "I was so mean," she muttered absentmindedly. "So cold to him."
"How could you be cold to Jack Frost? He's Jack Frost."
But again, her mom was not amused. "So cold." Sophie twisted back and forth in a sweat, "cold..."
Gwyn grew worried. "Do you want me to call for a nurse?"
"No," her mom grunted. "Please keep... keep..."
"Keep reading?" Impatience started to wear away at Gwyn's collected demeanor. She came to Tucson for answers, not to read stories, and time was running out. Even on her deathbed, her mom was stalling.
"Is this really what you want me to do, Mom?" Gwyn asked sternly. "You owe me, and you know it. You knew it when I left ten years ago. I hoped some time would make you realize..." Gwyn choked back tears of frustration, and her throat tightened. "I've lost so much. Don't I deserve to know why?"
"Read," her mom croaked. She blindly reached back for where Gwyn had set the diary on the bedside table.
Gwyn snapped. She ripped the old diary from her mom's grasp, and a picture fell out onto the floor. Gwyn cast it a glance, but it was just a faded photo of her mom ice skating alone on a frozen pond. "The next entry is from..."
February 1, 2017
Dear Diary,
I got in big trouble today. At school we learned about Groundhog's Day, and it made me think of the guardians. My teacher, Ms. Eve, told us there's a groundhog in Pennsylvania named Punxsutawney Phil, and if he sees his shadow tomorrow there will be six more weeks of winter. I like that idea, because it means Jack will be here longer.
So I thought if Pennsylvania has a groundhog, maybe Burgess has one too. Then I thought, if I were a groundhog in Burgess, I would live in the woods because there's lots of caves there to make a home in.
That's why Caroline and me went to look for a groundhog in the woods after school. We looked for hours in all the caves and hollow trees we could find. We called out, "Groundhog! Groundhog! Come out!" but he never did.
Finally, it started to get dark, so Caroline and me walked back home. We got a little lost though, and on the way, we came across another cave. This one was pretty big. Probably big enough for Caroline's mastiff, and if it was big enough for Caroline's mastiff, then it was diffidently big enough for a groundhog. So me and Caroline crawled in.
But when we did, Caroline thought she saw a big spider and screamed. When she screamed, I jumped up and started stamping my feet to squish the spider. Only, I shook the walls of the cave too much, and a huge snowdrift fell down on the opening. We were trapped!
It was pitch black and I was so scared. We tried to dig away the snow, but more fell in its place and started to fill up the cave. Caroline started to cry, but I tried to stay brave. It was hard, and it only got harder as it got colder and colder. The longer we were in the cave, the harder it got to breathe. I thought I was going to die!
Finally, after forever! I heard a barking sound. A familiar barking sound that belongs to my dog, Abby.
"Abby!" I screamed "Abby. Dig us out!" She kept barking, and I hoped she brought someone to rescue us.
Then I heard Jack's voice, and I knew we were saved!
"Sophie, Is that you?" he asked. He sounded scared.
"Yes," I said. "It's me and Caroline."
"Hold on!" he said, "I'm going to get you out of there. Close your eyes!" Jack told us, and we did. Then, in a puff of blue dust, he made the snowdrift disappear. Caroline and I crawled out of the cave safely. The air smelled so crisp and fresh. When I saw Jack, he had a big smile on his face, but he looked a little sad too. I gave him a hug so big, it knocked him over!
"Why are you sad, Jack?" I asked him when I hugged him. "You saved me." He said he was not sad, but he was scared. Then I asked him why he was scared, because he's Jack Frost and he can't be scared. He laughed when I said that, but I didn't think it was funny.
Then me, Jack, Caroline, and Abby walked back to Burgess safely. I held his hand and he squeezed my fingers through my mittens as we skipped. His fingers are tingly cold. Everyone knows Jack likes snowball fights and ice-skating, but Jamie and me know that he likes holding hands and hugs just as much...
I probably would too if I went three-hundred years without touching someone. That's a very, very, very long time.
XOXO
Sophie Elisabeth Bennett
Gwyn flipped down the corner of the yellowing page and closed the diary. "Is any of this true?" She frowned. "I thought this Jack Frost was supposed to be imaginary?"
"The last thing the boy saw," her mom mumbled, "as the icy water washed over him— was the moon."
"Of course," Gwyn reasoned, "you were six when you wrote this. You must have had some wild imagination, huh Mom?"
Her mother remained silent. Instead of answering Gwyn's questions, her mom was filling her head with more.
"What about these guardians?" Gwyn pressed. She sat the diary down in her lap and ran her fingers through her hair. "You mentioned them a few times and Uncle Jaimie too. Maybe 'Jack Frost' was some sort of game you two used to play, and the guardians were like a club?"
"Gwyneira." Sophie wheezed. She visibly struggled to utter each word. "The answers you seek are there. If you keep reading, but please, I need to hear the story one more time."
Suddenly, the diary felt like a lead weight in Gwyn's lap. The answers have been in this old thing all this time? She could only guess what sort of game her mother was playing at.
Gwyn opened the book again, and as she thumbed through the pages, realized the diary was much more than some child's scribblings about her imaginary friend. In fact, her mother's elegant artisan's script covered most of the pages, along with illustrations in water color, oil pastel, charcoal, and graphite. From what Gwyn could tell, her mom had been updating the journal for a long time... but why?
If she could believe her mother, Gwyn held that answer, along with so many more, in her hands. She just had to read.
"Okay," Gwyn sighed. "I'll keep reading, but you'd better hold on until I'm done."
Her mother nodded and closed her tired eyes. Gwyn sunk deeper into the plastic chair, propped her feet up on the base board of the bed, and unfolded the diary across her lap.
"The next entry is from..."
AN: Essentially this is a RotG story with a "Benjamin Button" inspired structure. It's much shorter than what I'm used to writing. I have this story penned for 15-20 chapters all between 2,000-4,000 words each. It's not an epic or anything. Just a romantic drama that an enormously irritating plot bunny, an overzealous imagination, and a fantastic film, forced me to write.
Since this is the first chapter, I would really appreciate reviews that focus on characterization the story's premise. Do you find Gwyn believable, annoying, sympathetic/ not sympathetic; does little Sophie seem in character; how about Jack? Most importantly, did this chapter establish enough to keep you interested and/ or wanting to know more? All advise is good advise, because it's the only way I can grow as a writer.
Finally a programming note... to my Principatus readers who may be wondering, the next chapter is currently being beta-read and will be out shortly! I only posted this first becuase it finished the editing process earlier.
Best,
Scarlett
