The young spirit looked up. This was becoming a regular thing for him, but something kept telling him to never stop trying. Here goes nothing. Gripping his crooked staff, frosted-blue hoodie over his silver-white hair, he took a deep breath.

"What am I supposed to do? No other spirit seems to have this problem, except me. Why? Am I doing something wrong?" He paused, eyes glued upward, hoping for a miracle.

"C-could you just...tell me what it is?" Tears whelled up in his bright blue eyes, which have not left focus from that spot.

Frustration was taking over. "You put me here! The least you could do is tell me...tell me why?" Still, no response.

After 300 years of absolute silence, the boy had had enough. After 300 years of absolute silence, he let it all out. After 300 years of silence, nothing mattered anymore. After 300 years of silence...

He sky-rocketed into the air, icy tears cutting his face as he flew to an all-too-familiar "home," if that's what you call a home. landing in the soft snow, he did not dare look up. He was through looking up. He was tired of looking for a silver lining. He could not take it any more. He fell to his knees. Throwing his staff onto the frozen lake where he had found it, he let out a cry of pure agony.

"WHYYYYYYYYY?!" He screamed. "Why did you do this to me?!" He gripped part of his hoodie covering his chest. "What did I do?!" He threw his hands in the air and fell forward onto his stomach. The cold snow was comforting. It was soft...it was familiar...it was safe. A cool breeze crossed over his face, hair gently blowing in front of him. The boy circled his fingers in the snow, drawing intricate patterns he had made so many of.

He started to get up, tears half-way frozen solid still streaming down his face. His eyes were red and burning...he felt hot for the first time in his life. Instead of whiping the tears away, he slapped his cheeks, making them more red and the burning sensation worse.

"I'm such a baby! No wonder no one sees me. Not one soul on this planet ever sees me! After all I've done?! It's like I don't even exist...that's it!" He let out a laugh. "I'm not real...I'm not alive..."

He let out a sigh, face still red. "So what's the point anymore? Why keep trying?" He twirled his hand in that special way, and a snowflake appeared. Wrapping his hand around it as the figure danced between his fingers, he actually smiled. He enjoyed his work, even though no one else bothered to thank him. He tossed the snowflake up into the air, and it started to lightly snow. He saw his staff laying in the middle of the frozen lake.

Slowly, head down, keeping his face from the upward position in any way possible, he walked out onto the frozen lake. He cursed with each step as the ice grew thicker under each foot. He reached down and picked up his staff. This was supposedly the source of his power, the reason he can do what he can do. Taking it in both hands, he gripped hard, knuckles whiter than usual. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes...

CRACK

Screams of every kind of pain for the mind, body, and soul-if he even had one-projected from the back of his throat. He had never felt this kind of pain before. Maybe he had all along, deep down inside, trying to ignore it all these years? He grabbed a fistful of hair with each hand, pulling pure white hair from his scalp. But the pain would not stop.

His chest felt like it was going to explode, his stomach twisted in ways he could not find possible...his heart-if he even had one-broke. No matter what he did, good snow days or breaking his staff, the pain would never go away. It was always there...and always would be...unless...

With one final cry, the boy shut his eyes, wincing with anxiety, as he wrapped his arms tightly around each other, took a deep breath, and threw his body backwards so hard, that his shoulders broke through the thick ice covering the lake. Ice flew everywhere, and water beat against his back as more and more water rose above him. The trees surrounding the lake became smaller and smaller. Darkness took over his life again. He was back at the beginning.

This was where all of his problems started. The darkness...the coldness...the fear. He closed his eyes, inhaled as much ice and water as he could to fill his lungs. The pain was still there. He held his breath. When what seemed like hours go by, the pain finally stopped. After 300 years, he finally made the pain go away. He was at peace for the first time in his life. Knowing there would be no more pain ever again.

And Jack Frost was no more...