A/N: So this is inspired from a wicked awesome stopmotion animation a student did, can't find it at the moment, but it was fantastic! I had to write this... not complete yet, but I wanted to write out the first part of it anyway. Kinda wanna go for a fairytale touch to it aaah...
Bottle
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It was another beautiful warm day on the beach. A bright, blond young man stepped onto the beach like he did every day, since the day he was born. Kind of hard not to when you were created out of sand. His father was a powerful sorcerer who had longed for a son, and so had molded a body out of damp sand, ran his hand over it whilst whispering a few words and slowly but surely, became a young boy. He had short sandy blond hair, the same color that surrounded him and once the boy opened his eyes, the sorcerer smiled to see his eyes were the same oceanic blue as the sea. He proceeded to gingerly pick the boy up and cradle him. He introduced himself and decided to give the boy a name: Alfred.
The bright young boy smiled at him and hugged him tightly. The green-eyed sorcerer had finally gotten a son...
Of course, some years have passed since then; the boy, now a young man, stayed rooted to his beach. He couldn't leave, or so his father said, lest the spell reversed and he would revert back into sand. He heeded his father's warning as he saw him off to sea, waving until his boat became a dot on the horizon.
Alfred wouldn't complain, he knew nothing of the outside world, his father had said very little. His beach spread far and wide, so he was never bored. He loved the warm sunny days where the sun blazed and the sand was hot. He loved to lay there and watch the people walk by, playing in the sand, in the water, or doing like him and lounging about, soaking up the sun's rays. He would smile at the children who would mold and build sand castles, mermaids, even chuckled inwardly as they made a sand duplicate of themselves. He would play with them whenever he wanted to, laughing and playing, enjoying his time. Little did they know they were playing with an actual sand-man .
That's fine. Alfred thought. They don't need to know... as he heard his father's voice in his head, warning him not to tell anyone what his origins were.
Alfred loved the sunsets. Watching couples holding hands, walking along the shoreline. He loved the colors the sky would turn into. Firey reds, oranges, yellows, pinks and violets. The night sky was especially beautiful to watch. He could see for miles and miles all the stars in the sky, some would twinkle, some would shoot across the sky. He wondered what they really were as he was tracing images out of them. He sighed, felt serene and at peace with everything.
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The next day, as he woke up and stretched, gazing at the beautiful sunrise, he noticed a small bottle that had washed up on the shore. He moved slowly towards it to pick it up. It was a clear bottle with a cork at the end. He saw inside was ...white stuff. Frowning in confusion, he opened the bottle, poured the contents out and felt the white stuff... well.. felt long enough before it disappeared before his eyes. It was cold and wet before it ...became water in his hand and dampened the sand below his feet. How odd he thought. So he decided to scoop up a bit of sand and pour it in the bottle. He let the waves take the small bottle away and out to sea, disappearing from sight.
He could still feel the strange cool sensation of the white stuff on his hand. He continued to gaze at the horizon.
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Matthew walked around the forest, brushing off the snow from some branches. He inhaled deeply to catch a breath of some arctic air that surrounded the frozen area. It was a blanket of snow with many trees and some animals, and a small shore where the ice had broken. Every day he would check the almost frozen shoreline as he waited for the bottle he sent out. He had found an abandoned bottle, and decided on a whim to stuff snow inside and send it out to the ocean. He didn't know if he'd get a reply, but his father had told him stories about messages in a bottle.
His father being the ruler of where Matthew resided. He had once asked his father where he came from, his father only reply was "snow" and motioned around him. While his father was dressed in heavy furs, Matthew was quite content to be barefoot, have a simple shirt and pants that his father had given him. His father had pale skin and dark hair and tired light eyes, Matthew had paler skin and the lightest blond hair, also adorning light violet eyes. While his father huddled in a cave to stay warm during a freezing ice storm, Matthew would laugh and dance in it, feeling content and happy at the coolness that surrounded him. He felt so energetic, so spirited when he felt the ice hit his hands and face. His father afterwards would give Matthew a small smile, but was always wary at keeping him away from the warm fires he made. Matthew was grateful for that, he remembered feeling very sick whenever he was close to fire or anything remotely hot.
His father would warn him not to go south, to stay where he was, in the North, lest he would disappear from the Earth. Matthew remembered how his eyes went wide, not wanting to disappear and make his father sad. So he obeyed and stayed where he was.
His land was indeed very large though, he was never bored. He would climb trees; watch the squirrels collect their food for when it got colder (though Matthew found it hard to notice the difference). He would spot polar bears and white arctic foxes and marvel at their beauty. They would let him approach, as his father nodded to them to signal that 'yes, this is one of mine as well.' He enjoyed petting their fur, giggled at their wet noses but wouldn't keep his hand there long... he didn't want to freeze them.
However sometimes, feeling bold, he ventured a little further south... still very mindful of his father's warnings; he would see people outside. It was hard to tell them apart since they all wore strange clothing to keep themselves warm. From a distance he enjoyed watching the young couples hold hands as they glided along the frozen lake, how some would huddle together to keep warm, coo at each other lovingly, but he also enjoyed watching the children play with the snow around them. He laughed when they would throw snowballs at each other, and build little houses and forts out of snow.
Matthew even dared one time to help one of the children place a rather heavy snowball on top of one another so that they had build a snow man. He chuckled at that, he wondered if that what he was, a snow-man. The children gaped at him and admired his stealth that he was barefoot and wasn't wearing any winter clothing at all. One had decided to challenge him and proceeded to take off his winter clothing. Matthew, knowing how people like that child didn't like being cold, bent down to stop the child from taking off his warm clothing. As the child took off his coat and mitts, he was shivering already.
Matthew sighed and stopped the boy's hand from taking off his hat or any other article. The boy gasped them yelped as he pulled his hand away, seeing a bit of ice that had formed where Matthew had touched him. The others looked at the boy and then at Matthew with wide eyes, frightened. Some ran away, yelling 'ITS JACK FROST! HE'S GOING TO FREEZE US!"
Matthew was saddened and confused at their reaction, and then remembered about touching living things... He watched the boy who had challenged him stumble away, crying in fear.
Matthew walked back up North after that, decided to stay there from now on.
He looked at the warm sun finally setting, painting the sky a beautiful violet. He loved lying in the snow, looking up at the night sky and watching all the stars appear at night. The moon was a beautiful sight; he would always lazily attempt to catch it in his hand before letting his hand trace images in the night sky, connecting the stars to one another.
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...He hopes someone has found his bottle...
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...He hopes even more that someone will reply...
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