It had been a rough day. Worse than usual. It was nearing Spring, and, as for every time Jack Frost had to make this change, the sprites of Spring came around and tried to get rid of Jack before his time was over. It was the normal taunting and bullying, at first, but after a few days of isolated fights and punches while his back was turned, it had quickly escalated into something much more. The spring sprites had gathered together this time, for an all-out attack, trying to rid themselves of the pesky winter spirit once and for all. Jack, however, was not going down without a fight.
It had been a grueling few hours of merciless attack after merciless attack and Jack was beginning to lose the fight. As a last ditch effort to gain an advantage, then, Jack had conjured up a storm. All of his frustrations were put into the massive blizzard. He wanted to rid himself of the sprites, and this, in Jack's mind, was the only way to get them to finally listen.
Jack's storm raged, and Jack himself began to wear down from the effort. He might be the embodiment of winter, but he did not have unlimited power and he was quickly approaching his limit. It took another day, and five states to finally die Jack's storm down to a winter weather advisory. Jack knew he had gotten his point across days ago, but he did not have the will nor the want to stop the raging blizzard. It felt good and Jack needed to blow himself out for it to stop, so he went all out, calling upon every trick he knew to make this memorable. What he was not expecting was the guilt that followed.
Destruction. It was everywhere and nothing could escape. Houses were buried, electricity had gone out, many were without heat and many more had no means of leaving their homes because of the hazardous transportation. Jack had not meant to cause so much despair, but he had grown used to it. He always caused trouble; it was who he was, and he could not escape that. He watched the people bustling about, trying to clear their driveways of the foot or two of snow that had gathered over the course of a few days. No one noticed Jack when he landed roughly on the ground and stumbled into a snow bank in the town park. Not one person bared witness to Jack falling forward and burying himself in his snow. Not one living soul bothered him.
Jack awoke hours later, exhaustion still pulling him down, but not as bad as before. He could not stay here. The spring sprites would find him again after they had recovered. He knew they would come back. They always did. Jack pushed himself up from the frozen ground and out of the snow bank. He stood, dusted a few clumps of snow off of himself that clung to their creator, and began to trudge lazily through the snow, not having the will to fly just yet.
The snow was always beautiful to Jack, even if it caused destruction. Jack surveyed his work, watching the light filtered down from the late evening cloud cover bounce off and shine, even if only a little bit. As Jack slowly pulled his gaze from the snow, he saw something moving from the corner of his eye that was not previously there. Jack clenched his staff close to him and stepped back once as he turned his eyes to the figure that stood near a tree tuned away from him. Jack relaxed then; no human could harm him. It was probably just a person taking an evening stroll through the park. Nothing to be worried about. But Jack was anxious nonetheless. He turned to the wind, about to call it to take him to his lake, when he saw the man by the tree bend down. Jack, now curious at whatever had caught the man's attention, walked up right behind him. Jack could now hear the man speaking softly to something. Still a good fifteen feet off, Jack inched his way closer to the man, wanting to hear what he was saying. As he came closer, he could hear the soft mewling from something buried in the snow. Jack leaned around the man speaking and saw that there was a young woman sitting against the tree, covered in snow up to her chest. Jack took in her blue complexion and stiff limbs and knew she did not have much longer to live. The guilt hit Jack like a punch in the stomach and he let out an uncomfortable sigh, trying to control his emotions. Jack stiffening as the man moved, almost to answer Jack's plea, and moved a hand toward the woman. Although, Jack noticed with surprise, it was not a hand; the man had a skeleton where his hand should be. Jack took a quick step back, surprise and fear roiling in him, and he nearly jumped into the air, but his eye caught the movement of the hand and Jack was frozen in place, mesmerized by its fluid movements and grace. The skeleton hand reached into the woman and pulled at something inside of her, then came out with a white webby substance. The woman, immediately after, fell limp, as if asleep, but Jack knew better.
"It's just her soul. She was suffering, and now she will be sent to Heaven or Hell, whichever way her soul leans." The man folded the soul into a small square, then tucked it into his inner pocket inside his black robe and stood, as if ready to leave.
"Wait!" Jack yelled, then cringed at his own voice, rough and dry. He had not meant to be so loud, but he needed to ask the man who he was before he left. The mere thought that someone could acknowledge him, let alone speak with him, surprised and excited Jack.
"It was her time to go. She is no longer-"
"No, not that. I know that. But, who are you and why can you hear me? Can you seem me too?!" Jack nearly bounced in his new discovery. Finally! Someone who has not yet cast him away and is holding a conversation with him! Even if he takes people's souls, this brightened Jack's day considerably.
"Well," the man sounded perplexed, as if this sort of reaction did not happen usually. He turned around and faced Jack, and Jack flinched when he caught a glimpse of the skeleton underneath the dark hood. "I suppose you would call me Death, in this area. I collect souls who cannot cross over on their own."
"With that look of yours, I bet you would get along great with the Boogeyman." Jack nearly laughed, then sobered when he remembered who he was speaking to. "Sorry. It's just that I don't get to talk to other people often. Well, people who aren't out to sabotage me or my season."
"I didn't ask who you were." Death said suddenly with a hint of curiosity.
"Oh, me? My name's Jack Frost." Jack let a toothy smile slip and it lightened his mood.
"You seem awful happy to meet Death." The hooded skeleton said, and Jack could almost swear he saw a glint of humor in his eye sockets right then.
"Well, as I said before, I don't get to talk to too many people. Hey!" Jack jumped up once out of excitement, the wind picking him up and hovered him a few inches above the ground, "How about you teach me that thing you did? With the soul and stuff?"
Death stood stock still, amazed at the fact that this young man was hovering above the ground. After a few seconds of letting his mind catch up with the situation, he finally had enough sense to answer Jack.
"Well, I am sure that is not something you want to do. You would be taking lives, killing, in a sense, and that is not a job for someone as young as you, especially." Jack deflated at this news and his feet touched the ground lightly. Death looked at his wrist wear a watch sat.
"I have to leave soon. My next client-"
"No, I understand. It's alright." Jack sat on the ground, the exhaustion from earlier catching back up, his will power no longer wanting to hold him above the ground.
"You're the spirit of winter, correct?" Death asked out of the blue. Jack let his eyes drift back up the cloak to look into the dark pits that were Death's eyes. He nodded weakly, then, for emphasis, created a few snowflakes and blew them into the air.
"Well, Jack, I hope to never see you again, but if our fates cross once more, I will make sure to spend more time with you. If I stop time again I'm sure Norton would blow a fuse." Death seemed to smile at that, as if remembering a good friend. Jack stood, then, and held out a hand. Death, snapped out of his reverie, took it and shook it firmly.
"Until then," Jack smiled, and flew off into the air. He created a few new snowflakes and set off for Burgess.