She used to run through the halls, even late into the night, singing. It was such a happy sound. I always went to bed early, knowing I'd be woken up soon by that cheerful voice. It was funny how she never seemed to need sleep like I did. No matter, I loved filling the grand ballrooms with snow, with ice, with cold. I wished there was some way to protect her from the sting of winter on her skin, but she bundled up and never complained.
Our parents grew angry, but Anna made eyes at them and they let it go. The ballroom became our personal domain, a kingdom kept frosty even throughout the heat of summer. Sometimes our parents would join us. They did their best to keep our playtimes limited to daylight hours, but Anna loved the night. There was no reining her in. It was a pointless fight and Mom and Dad knew it. They gave up soon after.
Anna loved the sky. I still remember the first night she snuck out of bed to coerce me into making snow for her. In the front hall, standing before the huge window overlooking the frozen lake and the hills laden with winter snows, she dropped to her knees.
"The sky's awake, so I'm awake." It scared me that first time. She didn't sound like the sister I loved. She was quiet, a rarity, but there was something haunted, something frightened, in her voice. Then she said it again, and her usual loudness and excitement broke through. It became her favorite saying. I forgot about that first night for some time. It wasn't until I heard her speak those words to me again after the accident that I remembered that moment in front of the window.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sang to me on a daily basis. That was all I wanted. To make my sister happy. To build snowmen that lit up the night for me like the stars did for Anna.
The happiest night of my life was that first night, when I discovered I could use my powers for fun. Anna and I built a snowman. We named him Olaf. He liked warm hugs, warm sun, and warm fires. I wasn't used to the long shadows of the castles at night, but Olaf the snowman kept the fear at bay. He became a permanent fixture, a staple in our games and an anchor for me when the dark crept in the edges and corners of our perfect paradise.
The dark wasn't the only thing I feared. My powers were growing stronger, and I was afraid one day it would be impossible to be around me because of the intense cold radiating from my body.
My powers killed my sister. We were just playing. We were kids, young kids. I was the older one. The one responsible. Somehow a beam of my ice wrapped around Anna's heart. She was dead in my arms before our parents heard my screams. "So cold," she said. Then her eyes glazed over and she spoke no more.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" I sang quietly. Then the tears began to fall.
The time after her death is a maze in my mind, a labyrinth of grief and loneliness, fear, confusion, guilt. I wonder how much I didn't see, caught up in my own personal endless winter. I couldn't even use my powers. Olaf melted with the rest of the snow in the ballroom come spring; to this day that room is still too soggy to enter. And the mould. Those ballroom doors never open anymore. Maybe things would improve if I could just get some sleep. But Anna is a night person, remember? "Do you wanna build a snowman?"
Mom and dad shut down the castle. The gates were closed, the staff was laid off. The huge corridors and rooms echoed. I didn't see much of my parents. I was locked in my room, coping with my guilt and grief; they were locked in theirs, coping with their favorite daughter's death. Coping with the terrible monster they shared a castle with, the monster they once called their child.
When I began seeing strange things, frightening things, they didn't believe me.
"Mother, father. I think I can hear Anna. Daddy, I saw a snowman in the hall. Mommy, Anna is here. She's here. She's in the castle. She's here."
The first time I saw Olaf, it was likely about six weeks after Anna's death. I was out in the night, getting a glass of water. The sky was awake. I couldn't shake the feeling that Anna was awake. In the corner of the kitchen, I saw a white shape. It was a twisted, maimed version of the beloved snowman my sister and I shared.
"Olaf?" I reached out and touched it. It sagged under my touch, collapsing in a misshapen heap on the ground.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" I heard Anna croon, somewhere close to my ear. She was nowhere in sight.
I ran back to my room and dove under my covers.
"The sky's awake, so I'm awake, Elsa!" It was so loud. Her voice was everywhere. I covered my ears but it was in my mind. There was a knock at the door. "Do you wanna build a snowman? Come on let's go and play. I never see you anymore, come out the door, it's like you've gone away! We used to be best buddies and now we're not. I wish you would tell me why! Do you wanna build a snowman? It doesn't have to be a snowman. Okay bye…"
This became the song of my fear, of my nightmares. It would begin in Anna's sweet voice, but gradually a satanic undertone grew as she sang. Finally, my sister's voice was unrecognizable. Then the song would end, and the silence would be even worse.
The next night, the entire hallway was filled with mutated Olaf snowmen. I ran for my parents, but the statues were always gone when they arrived.
