Doodles of Fear or Freedom or Maybe Both by emilynx
It was winter. Placing her fingers against the window pane, she could feel the coolness seeping in from the outside world that she never experienced anymore. She wiped away some of the frost. She pressed her cheek against the glass either because of her longing to be there or because the coolness of it just felt good or maybe both.
She could feel the coldness in her hands and now on her face as she rested against the window and she could see, from her sort of awkward position, the fog that was created when her breath touched the surface she rested on. She watched it for a while, the fog growing and shrinking each time she breathed. Then, from her sort of awkward position, she used her finger to draw a smiley face in the fog that only disappeared with her next breath.
Reluctantly moving from her sort of awkward position and off of the cool surface, she observed the window. Her only glimpse of the outside world that she never experienced anymore was covered in the thing that was the reason she never experienced it. Frost coated the glass, natural condensation everywhere save for the spots where her fingers and her cheek had touched it. She studied the frost for a few more moments and then decided, lonely and bored and without any paper or pens or paints handy, that she would use the frost that came with this winter day and that was blocking her view of the outside world that she never experienced anymore to her creative advantage.
She placed a finger against the pane, sighing as the coolness seeped in from the outside world that she never experienced anymore once again, and began to create shapes and designs by wiping away the condensation. Standing up so that she could reach the top part of her canvas, she didn't take her hand away from the cold glass. Her fingers traveled in elegant loops, wiping away the frost that was blocking her view of the outside world that she never experienced anymore. They moved without her thinking about what her elaborate designs looked like or about how they would probably disappear by the next morning. She held onto something inside her as she painted, curls and coils spiraling in icy bursts like some swirling storm in her soul.
Running out of space on her makeshift canvas, she hopped off the bench beside her window and backed away, seeing her creation in its full beauty for the first time.
She observed the window. She'd drawn a magnificent structure. Intricate details defined the walls of a gorgeous palace. Equally elaborate steps led up to it. Swirls and snowflakes covered what would otherwise be the empty sky.
She observed the window some more and decided that something was missing. Her eyes scanned the drawing until they landed on an empty space between a pretty snowflake and a noseless snowman.
She thought about what to put here, unlike what she'd done with the rest of her piece. She settled on a simple, childlike shape, also unlike the rest of her piece.
She went up to it and touched the glass, taking a deep breath as she could once again feel the coolness seep in from the outside world that she never-
"Elsa?"
She winced and let go of something inside of her.
The rhythm of the knock that followed was different from her own rhythm and she shut her eyes either because there was something she was trying to grab ahold of inside of herself or just because she was annoyed or maybe both.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?"
Elsa looked back up at her own snowman who never got a nose, but he was gone.
As was the half of a heart that she never finished drawing.
Pulling her fingers away from the window pane, she stared at them in terror. Looking up one last time, she observed the glass, which, to her horror, was once again completely covered in the frost that kept her from the outside world that she feared.