The Feast of All Saints
A cold wind blew through the cemetery, bringing a litter of snowflakes along with it. The people around the graves huddled over the hundreds of carefully lit candles, making sure that they did not go out. The ones that did were carefully and reverently re-lit. Unseen by most of the individuals, a white haired winter spirit lighted on a tree overshadowing the cemetery, and then he silently dropped like to the ground below. He stood for a long time watching the moonlit gravestones, leaning against his staff. His body language mirrored one of tension and nervousness.
"Hello Jack," a soft deep voice spoke beside him. The winter spirit spun around holding his staff out like a gun. A thin white frost had already spread over the entire length. It would only take a thought to fire a thick blast of ice at the person that disturbed him. It was the smile that disarmed him. It was once of peace yet great sorrow. He sighed and lowered his staff.
"Hello Foas," he said his voice sounding hollow. The female spirit walked over and touched his face. He looked up into eyes that were the color of flames and flicked like them as well. He looked away; there was always something disconcerting about Foas. The way she seemed to just look right into you.
"I see you finally came," she said moving to stand beside him, her gaze on the candle framed graves. Jack sighed and swung himself to follow her gaze, leaning heavily on his staff. This was proving harder than he thought. Images of his sister, the one he saved, the one he barely knew flashed in his head. He glanced as Foas but her eyes were still on the graves. "You only have to ask," she said softly.
The tears caught in Jack's throat. How he wanted to ask! But he was so afraid. Suppose...just suppose…his sister did not remember him. Suppose she forgot about him, time numbing her grief like it does for everyone. Ever since he had found out about this old custom, the Feast of All saints, he could not get it out of his head. A time where people came to the graves of their loved ones and decorated it with candles and flowers. A time where they came to remember. He had wondered if is his family had done the same for him.
It was years ago, when he was watching the people clean and decorate the graves that he met Foas. She had just appeared beside him; silent and dark with eyes like the flickering flames of the candles. She seemed harmless but he always sensed something underneath that calm exterior. She could never be described as friendly or cheerful. Sure she smiled and even made jokes but she was remote. Remote as the past, as the graves she watched over, as the memories she was built from. She was the Spirit of the Feast of All Saints.
Somehow they had ended up talking and he had told of his worries. And she had made the offer. The offer that if he wanted to find out if his family remembered him, he just had to ask. He had opened his mouth to say yes, but had stopped. He didn't know why but a great fear had taken hold of him and without a word he had flown off.
For years after he was tormented by the offer. It seemed so selfish. He had such a great life as a guardian, children all over the world believed in him, could see him and even touch him. He was definitely remembered. But his past clung to him like Pitch's shadows. Always following him around. Plaguing his quiet moments. Every year he showed up on the day of the Feasts of all Saints but he never stayed long enough to find Foas or let Foas find him; however it was that she worked. Then last night he say Jamie and Sophie playing and the memories of his sister came so strongly to him that he had to leave before the tears overwhelmed him. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe he was being ungrateful. But he needed to know. He needed to know that the person responsible for giving him this chance at being a guardian, had given him this chance to be remembered for all time, had not forgotten him.
"I want to know if my sister remembered me," Jack said softly, "I want to know if she had put candles for me and flowers." He found himself gazing into those flickering eyes and felt no fear. Foas smiled her haunting smile at him.
"Very well Jack Frost," she said. She then held her right hand up and in her hand laid a large glass cup. A single candle flame flickered in it, but there was no wax, or wick. She held her left hand out to Jack. He took a deep breath and took it.
He felt wave of heat pass over him. He cried out at the sensation. IT was so hot, he felt like was being burnt.
"Foas!" he screamed. Then a wave of cold air hit him. All the pain left him instantly. The Spirit of the Feast of All Saints stood beside him. A small smile played on her lips.
"Time travelling is not always fun," she said. Jack frowned at her. He opened his mouth retort, when she laid a finger on his lips. Then she pointed toward his right. Jack stopped and looked around. He knew this place. This forest. This was home. He looked to ask Foas if he was really home but she was not there. He huffed then began to make his way through the forest in the direction that Foas pointed.
It was dark and snowing. But he didn't mind. Being a winter spirit had its advantages. He looked at the trees standing tall and black and wondered where it was that Foas had sent him off too, then he stopped. He remembered. This was the way to the lake. He grinned and began hurrying down now familiar paths. Soon enough he emerged at the lake. The water was iced over. It shone a beautiful ghostly silver in the moonlight. He shivered to know that under it, his body still lay frozen and dead. Then he heard a sound, a small scraping sound. He slipped behind a tree at the edge of the lake and peered out from behind it. A small figure emerged holing something tightly to its body. He almost gasped. It was his sister! He would know that form anywhere. He had to hold himself back from running out and hugging her. She reached the edge of the lake and stopped there a while. Then she moved out on to the icy surface. She walked till she was standing in the exact spot where Jack had fallen all those years ago. Jack watched as she knelt and placed a glass cup on the spot. Then she struck a match, the small flame illuminating her small face. Jack felt his breath hitch in his throat. He chest felt like it was going to burst from the intense emotions building inside him.
Suddenly the flame flared and the entire scene was bathed in flame colored hues. Jack took a step back expecting his sister to jump as well, but she carried on as if nothing had changed. He realized that he alone was seeing this. Then as she lit the candle the flame flickered pure white on the wick. Then she began to place the candle into the glass cup. Jack frowned, somehow with each second that passed, the scene seemed to flicker. But the movement of her hands and the posture she was in remained the same. It was when he watched her face did he realize what was going on. His sister was aging. He was watching her re-enact the same ritual as the years went by in her life. It was just like those stick figure drawings Jamie had shown him in his book. That when he flipped the pages the figure would perform some action. It was the same here except the pages were the years of his sister's life. She had remembered him! She had remembered for so long. He throat felt tight with emotion. When his sister finally placed the candle in the glass cup, the candle flared a brilliant light. Jack instinctively covered his eyes.
When he opened them he was back in present day. Foas was sitting on the ground not too far from him. He wiped his hand over his face only for it to come back wet. He had been crying. And he didn't even realize it. He fought for control over his emotions then gave an attempt at a smile at Foas. She simply laughed at him. Her flickering eyes held to terror for him now. She looked vibrant instead. Vibrant with the memories and knowledge that people still remembered those they loved. He opened his mouth to ask her one last favor but she was already pointing the way out to him. He grinned at her again and flew off to find his sister's grave.
Jack stood a long time staring at his sister's headstone. It was simple yet beautiful. Made even more beautiful now by the new memory that he had of her.
"I am glad that you remembered me sis," he said squatting down and resting a hand on the headstone, "I assure you that I won't forget you either. No matter how long I live." With that he pressed a kiss to the cold stone and got up. He then touched his staff gently to the stone and with a smile on his face, flew off into the air. Behind him he left a perfect frosted replica of a glass cup with a lighted candle.