He was thinking, maybe, a nice blizzard for Midwest America tonight. Wouldn't Bunny love that? March was the perfect month for blizzards, Jack knew. Suspended directly between the assured bitterness of February and the expected warmer weather of April… catching everyone off guard as they prematurely looked forward to spring… fun.
Okay, maybe not a blizzard, but a soft flurry. Sandy had previously expressed dissatisfaction at nightly inclement weather; it threw off his flight patterns. And Jack didn't like annoying Sandy. It was too much like deliberately antagonizing a deceptively calm cat. In other words: not a good idea.
Either way, the area was about to get some snow. Propelled by the wind, he dipped toward a house—slicking the roof with ice just so- touching down at the perfect angle to slide down and off the sloped lip to launch back into the air without breaking speed. He bounced off roofs and streetlamps with reckless abandon, blankets of snow and ice following in his wake, coating the tiny town underneath him in a perfect layer of wintery white.
The wind urged him to continue across the country, its whispery voice promising even more fun in the easterly states, but he resisted. The summer spirits had told him that the east was due for some early springtime, and it was not wise to go against the wishes of Momma Nature. Winter might be Jack's domain, but all nature was her kingdom.
He paused briefly, perching on the head of a statue —he didn't look to see of whom—surveying his work. A good coating; not quite enough for a snow day (it was Colorado, after all), but enough to give the little kids something to wake up to.
As he perched there, the sun relinquished its hold on the horizon, and the sky bruised into a deep purple, promising a clear, black, night. Sandy would be here any moment, but Jack didn't want to stick around. It wasn't as if he didn't want to see Sandy; the little man was all-around good-natured and comfortable company, but he felt an overwhelming urge to just be alone.
Sandy was the only Guardian Jack ran into on a somewhat frequent basis, aside from the occasional mini-fairy. North didn't travel much, preferring to preside over the work being done in the Pole, Tooth was, of course, constantly busy with her teeth operations, and Bunny tended to avoid the areas where Jack did his work. North sometimes called them all into the Pole to check in on them or just to talk, but those times were getting more and more infrequent. The last time Jack had seen them all together was five months ago. He didn't blame them; they were each relatively solitary creatures at heart and that was fine.
He willed the wind to carry him onward, and the town whisked by underneath him. He floated in the winds embrace like a wayward napkin, in no particular hurry.
The next settlement eventually slid into view, a city; larger, brighter, and busier than the town he had left. Nighttime had already seeped its tendrils into the streets and lights were burning in the houses and buildings in every direction. There was a thin layer of frost over everything—not Jack's work—but that would melt in the warmth of the coming morning. Jack declined to add a nice, thick, blanket, though the wind was imploring in his ear, and settled on adding some intricate frost patterns to the higher-up windows as he breezed by.
A huge, brightly lit, building, probably a warehouse, loomed in his path, and in a snap decision he made to alight on one of the higher-up windowsills for a quick moment.
As soon as his toes touched the cool concrete sill every single light in the building shut off.
His breath caught in his throat. What a weird coincidence. He glanced around at the surrounding buildings. They were still all lit as per normal. It had probably nothing to do with him, but he couldn't shake an uneasy feeling. His previous nonchalant mood was now completely gone.
Then, one by one, each of the streetlights in the street below flickered off.
Jack gripped his staff tighter, his hands slipping a little with cool sweat. He glanced behind him. The window he was perched on was slightly ajar, and though all the lights were on within, something dark-bad seemed to cling to the moonlight touching the sill.
"I need to see what's in there," he decided, speaking softly.
No, the wind whispered, no, Jack Boy, no, don't, don't go in there, no, there's no fun in there, no, Jack Boy, please
"I have to see," he said again, speaking more to himself than to the wind. Moving as quietly as possible, he wriggled through the open window, which was three stories up, making sure his staff didn't clack on the glass as he slid it in after him. He dropped delicately down onto the cold, dusty, concrete floor below, the wind's voice fading to a crooning sigh, barely registered in the back of his mind. No, Jack Boy, no
Whatever operations had been carried out in the warehouse, they were long gone. The single huge room was cleared except for abandoned crates and equipment in the corners, leaving nothing but dust and dirty puddles. Despite every light being turned on and burning brightly, it was absolutely empty and silent.
"Hello?" Jack called out, and immediately berated himself. There would be no humans able to see him here, and any malevolent creatures would hardly reveal themselves at his voice. Holding his staff at the ready, he started to move forward.
The windows rattled as if the wind were trying to break in. Jack Boy !
He circumvented a particularly large puddle, moving slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, something dark whisked across the dirty water, and he jumped. The uneasy feeling grew, and he shook his head to clear the clouds.
He reached the center of the room. The wind grew even more insistent, rattling the window panes angrily, as if growing desperate. Then it stopped.
Jack took one long look around the warehouse, but absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. In the absence of the wind the buzz from the electric lights could just be made out. A few seconds passed, then thirty, then a minute, and he decided finally to leave the creepy place behind. He was seconds away from summoning the wind, but out of nowhere pain exploded in his mind.
Jack gasped and clutched at his head, his face, anything to try and get it to stop. It wasn't stagnant pain; it grew in intensity, as if a million Pitches were throwing him into a million walls. And it wouldn't stop.
His staff fell forgotten to the floor with a sharp clack as he pressed both hands to his head. He dropped to his knees and curled over himself, his back arching. The pain was all-consuming, forcing every other thought and instinct out of his mind except for that it hurt.
Then the voices started. Quiet murmurs at first, but eventually growing in volume and intensity until the words could be made out; horrible, awful things that tore away the last defenses Jack had. There was screaming, also, very loud and very close. Eventually he realized it was his screams.
Eventually the struggle faded, and he collapsed onto the dirty ground, letting the noise and pain envelope him in its cold, cold, embrace. And, one by one, the lights in the building began to turn back off, as if nothing had happened. And, at least according to the humans who woke up the next morning and many mornings to come, nothing had.
o.O.o
When the silence fell, it fell hard. The sudden and complete absence of… well, everything that had constituted his existence for so long slammed into him like a brick wall. Jack woke up, gasping, his breath almost catching in his throat. He scrabbled at the ground, briefly, and then lay still. He marveled at the quiet, the simple, beautiful, quiet, a small smile growing on his face. How about that?
His staff was lying a distance from his face, maybe a foot? He reached out and grasped it, observing that it was covered in dust and cobwebs. He wrapped his hand around it, feeling the cold, textured wood, and watched the ice patterns weave outwards from his fingers. Yeah, that's the stuff.
After a while, he finally got to his feet, using his staff as a crutch. There was a great soreness in his limbs, not a soreness that resulted from an awkward night's sleep, but as if he had not moved in a great long while. It hurt quite a lot, and he giggled.
He remembered that there had been puddles. There were no puddles anymore; everything was bone dry. There was new equipment around, and the crates were different. It was still dusty, but with new dust, different dust, fresh dust. There was some ice on the ground, too, radiating from the spot where he had been lying. His ice.
It was dark, inside and out. Nighttime. Completely silent. Jack still marveled at that. The silence. It was nice, but… not nice. He wasn't sure if he liked it yet.
He examined his hands. Blood and dust had collected under his nails, and there were long scratches on his palms. He felt at his face, but that seemed fine. Just dirty. Oh well.
He kicked at the dust on the ground, and giggled again as it fluttered in the still air. Then he paused, frowning. It's too warm. He gave the equipment and crates around him a nasty look, then gave the ground a nice, solid, rap, with his staff. Ice exploded from the tip and fanned across the room, coating everything in a layer of frost and snow. The equipment closest to him rocked a bit in the face of the gust and a few of the windows rattled. The temperature in the room dropped like a weight. Better.
It was time to go outside. Jack summoned another gust of wind, and leaped toward one of the higher windows. He squeezed through the barely open space, scarcely bothering to regulate his noise. Pausing briefly on the sill, he rocketed up to the roof. He alighted on the gutter and perched there tenuously. He looked around. There were no clouds, and the moonlight was very bright. He squinted, hating it.
The city below him was in full-fledged night-mode, lights twinkling, as if trying to combat the dark all around their homes. There was no snow, no frost, nothing. It was… summertime. He wrinkled his nose. That would never do.
He spun his staff in his hands, and took one last sniff of the hateful summer air. The moon seemed to catch his glance. It seemed almost… sad. Sad for what? Not Jack. Jack wasn't sad. The moon shouldn't be sad either; Jack was about to make the world so much better. Stupid, nasty, hateful moon.
He shook his head and disregarded the moon entirely. He had other business to take care of. Namely, the incredible lack of snow in this area! Time to fix that.
A/N: This is not gonna be an overly happy story.
Currently this story stands at six chapters, and is a work in progress. I'm hoping to update Tuesdays and Thursdays, but that may change. I am currently stuck! Chapter six is a tough kumquat.
If you like what you see, or have some major concerns (for instance, you may ask why I enjoy torturing characters?) please drop a review, a PM, or, if you're up to it, contact me on the tumblr dot com (small-person-big-blog) and write me an ask.
I will have more to say about this story next chapter! I'm actually really excited for this.
