~Moonlit Walk~
It was a beautiful still night. The snow that had been falling for the past few hours had finally stopped, leaving behind a beautiful clear moonlit sky filled with thousands of stars. The man in the moon shined down onto the beautiful winter scene. The snow was fresh and bright, and it practically glowed in the moonlight. It had stuck to the branch of every tree, making the world look as if it was covered in marshmallow frosting. The world was silently sleeping, and all was still and peaceful.
It was a sight to behold, but only one pair of eyes would behold it tonight. And that would just so happen to be the creator of this masterpiece; Jack Frost.
Currently the boy was perched in a large tree, admiring his handiwork. He leaned on his staff and let out a low whistle. He had really outdone himself this time!
His snow white hair and rumpled up cloak came alive as a fresh, brisk breeze came across the scene. He closed his ocean blue eyes as the cool air washed over his pale face and nipped his nose. He was a handsome boy, and looked about 18 years old. His body was mostly made up of long legs covered with capris pants that where very old and distressed, tied at the ends by rough twine. He always carried his staff. It was about as tall as he was, with about half circle at the top. His ears where pointed and his personality was one of a mischievous sprite who had a knack of stirring up trouble.
Then the winter nymph jumped nimbly down from his icy perch, his bare feet crunching the snow beneath him. Then he continued on his journey.
Usually Jack just traveled wherever he pleased, wherever the wind would take him. But today he was on a journey to a certain place, and he was getting very close. He could just feel it.
He had traveled this way so many times that his feet had worn a path in the foliage and tree branches. And today he walked through the snowy grove once again , dragging his staff along the ground and brushing nearby trees with his hands. Where his fingers met the trees bark beautiful works of art where formed of frost. Spirals and flowers and fernlike designs quickly spread around the tree. Jack didn't even notice this transformation though; he was too lost in thought; his eyes frozen in front of him. Then he stopped.
He had made it to his destination.
He paused for a moment taking in the scenery. The trees stopped just feet in front of him, and beyond sat a large glassy lake. It was a rather small lake, easily frozen over by the winter cold. Around it sat evergreens and the bare branches of many other trees. The moon shone down on the lake, making it seem like it was sparkling with stars.
He looked all around at the familiar sightings and smiled. He didn't remember much from his past life, but he knew this place well. He had never really had a home since he became Jack, and this place was that place that he felt was his home. This is where he woke up that night, and this is where his journey began.
He had come to accept what had happened that night, but he still wasn't able to think about that day when he died. It brought him too much grief to think of, how his stupid actions could have saved him and his sister from the tragedy.
Jack never told anyone the full story, not because he didn't remember it, but because it was so painful to remember. He just simply said, "I drowned saving my sister." And then acted like it wasn't a very big deal. But to him it was- and every day it hurt him to know he left his sister behind. That he saved her, but he was just too late to save himself.
Months ago all he could remember was waking up on the side of the lake under the full moon. He was confused and frightened, but he wasn't cold. Even though he was sopping wet lying in the snow he didn't feel in the least bit cold. He remembered the man in the moon telling him he saw his heroic action that fateful day, and rewarded him with eternal life.
Later on jack came to find he wasn't just eternally young, but he had been given control over the winter elements as well. He stayed near the lake and practiced his newfound abilities, using a staff he had found next to him in the lake.
Later on he went to the warren of the tooth fairy, where he found his teeth and memories of his past life. That was a while ago though, but he hadn't visited the lake since he had found out about his history, and so he thought he would drop in.
He walked around the frozen lake, using his staff as a walking stick. As he walked he recognized things, he said to himself, "Thats where I fell in," and "Thats where I woke up that night." Months ago he only knew where he woke up, but not how he fell in and where.
Jack leaned on his staff and stared at the lake, and then the sky. He closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed. This place always brought him peace.
He walked along the shoreline of the lake until he came to a rather large oak tree. He climbed up its twisted trunk with ease to the place where the tree splits into all of the smaller branches. Years ago he had found this spot, and it was worn just to his body shape over time. He slept here every night for years, and he never had one nightmare. That was one of the main reasons he wanted to come and visit his old home so badly. In the outer world nightmares pledged him at least once or twice a week.
Jack smiled to see the place was actually still the same way he left it. He hadn't been here in a while, so he was afraid some animals could have made it their home. He propped his staff up against a branch and sat down. He ran his hands over the smoothed wood, feeling each crack, every mark he ever carved into it. He had never had a home of his own, and this was like his own special area, the one place he could really call his own.
Suddenly a wave of fatigue came over jack, making him realize how tired he was. He opened up his mouth as far as it could go, and let out a long yawn. He stretched his arms out and smiled. He sure had missed this place. He grabbed his staff down from his perch and held it in his arms.
Then he lied down in his cozy nook, and let his fatigue wash over him. He closed his bright blue eyes and using his arms for a pillow and his cloak for a blanket, the winter sprite fell into a wonderfully peaceful, deep slumber.
