"People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening." -Laurell K. Hamilton.
Mmmf… You still find human interest in me after almost fifty years. How delightfully strange. But what will become of your peculiar interest after spending this long with…
Me…
How I came here, I can't explain. May as well as the North Atlantic iceberg. No mortal man can know. As the mailman tells you every year, I live alone in my ghostly palace of ice, practicing strange spells and snowy incantations. I wonder if his warm blood ran winter chill when he finally uttered my name. Oh, how I would love to be the one to hear his vulnerable heart grow biting cold at the mention of…
My name…
What is my name exactly? Yes, every year they tell you what they call me. But my name.
My birth name…
Was I born? Or… was I formed when this doomed world began? They don't know. They don't want to know. But that is why you're here, brave warm soul.
What I remember is a coven. I was taken to witness dark, frightful magic. I tried to escape, but they caught…
Me…
They laid me out on a slab of ice, naked and shamed. First, they cut open my chest of flesh. The unspeakable pain ran through me like bitter water. They split open my ossein ribs. The first and only broken bones I would receive. I still remember the sound, like gelid tree branches cracking. I felt a pair of cold hands enter, and in them… Let no mortal man tell you that he knows accurate horror. He lies to you. I watched as they lifted my heart of flesh from my mortal body. Watched it. Fresh, steaming. I watched the heat leave and a sheet of ice cover it entirely. They returned my icy heart to my mortal body. That was their first mistake. Little did they know that their foolish act became their death sentence. I grew. I changed. My hair grew, as did my beard. My fingers became as long as frozen water on a tree branch. My teeth became as ice picks. I touched the coven, and they absorbed into…
Me…
As for the rest, they don't wish to find out. Instead, they leave me here in the cold mountain of the Whispering Wind, in between two worlds. On my right, a town ruled by a small man not unlike myself. A grey and brown town where nary a smile forms on the pathetic faces of the squalid people. Would their stunted leader feel complete power, or would the candlelight leave his blood once he saw…
Me…
On my left, a smaller town, full of elfin men and a woman. Toymakers they are, yet they dare not cross my outlawed path. They lost one of their own years ago. Did they not tell you? Typical, the Kringles. They cannot bear the dulcet pain. But once they had one of their own try to deliver their little toys to the grey and brown town. They did not count on…
Me…
I took him, and the things I did. Things that the human mind cannot comprehend. The hideous, eldritch things that only ice and snow can tell. Since then, they have not tried again.
At least, not with their own.
Eighteen years ago, they took in a human babe. How I would take in a human babe. The cozy welcome I would give. He grew. On his own, he decided to cross my cold domain. I prepared myself for this moment. Humans. They think they can conquer…
Me…
I ask him… "WHO NEARS MY MOUNTAIN…?"
Impressive? Well, when he hears my Titanic voice and sees my glaciated face, his foolish pride leaves. Now he stares back, afraid. He's never seen the likes of…
Me…
"GO BACK!" He doesn't listen. "NOW YOU ARE… DOOMED!"
He runs. The sight is humorous. Once again I remind myself: Man. They think themselves powerful. Masters of the universe. But once face to face with one like me, they cower.
Me…
As for the foundling, I shall get him when he returns. He must cross my mountain in the way home, and then, as they say in the grey and brown town…
"No more… being… a nice guy…"