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It was a quiet, crisp winter morning. Jack had just lain a blanket of fresh snow with a dappling of ice among the forest branches. It was the first snow fall of the year. And Jack was certainly going to enjoy it before the snotty kids awoke and ruined his perfection. That was the down side to his wonderful creations. The annoying brats didn't have school so they played amongst the snow. They destroyed his masterpieces. His art.
But way out in the forest where not a sound came except for Jack himself, it was peaceful. Quiet. Absentminedly, Jack would brush his fingers across a section of cold bark or a stray dead leaf. But whatever he would touch would instantly freeze over with clear ice. It had become natural - expected - for Jack for it was simply what came with the emplyoment. Along with creating winter and being positively frozen at all times, Jack did get a little satisfaction from his work. There was a simple pureness of the snow and ice. The joy it brought all, though none felt such joy on the first snow fall as the artists. Those Jack felt kinship towards. But he could never speak. Never step out from behind a snow drift or a frigid forest. They would all gasp at his cold skin and strange appearance.
Yes, being Jack Frost was a lonely life.
But out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed a fluttering of a vivid blue. He paused for it could very well be a human trekking through the fresh snow. He held up his hand, ready to snap his long fingers and vanish away on a cool winter breeze before he could be discovered by a human, when he realized it wasn't a human at all.
It was a butterfly.
Jack took a few hesitant steps towards the creature. It was resting on a small thorn bush and it appeared to be tremendously cold. This wasn't the butterfly's season. But Jack didn't want to see another creature die because of him. So many little critters and insects had to die every season just because life had to go on. Forgetting his place, Jack crouched down in the snow next to the little butterfly. It's wings were a stunning royal blue. When it would flap its large wings, early morning sunlight would glint and shimmer off of the iridescent wings. It was a sight to see. Surrounding by a white background, the butterfly looked very regal.
"What are you doing, little one? Shouldn't you be with your family?"Jack's voice was soft and perhaps more heart-felt than it had ever been. Being stonic and cruel came with the job. He had to simply follow rules and orders. But all of those were quickly forgotten when the butterfly seemed to turn towards his voice. Gently, slowly Jack extended his hand, his pointer finger towards the butterfly. He held his chilly breath without meaning to. Painfully slowly, the butterfly stepped onto his finger with a touch like a light breeze. A burst of joy radiated through Jack when he found he was holding a living, breathing creature.
But then it was instantly encased in ice. Doomed for eternal darkness.
{ ;-; I'm so sorry! It's rather sad the butterfly had to die but I was so inspired that I just had to...
But now the world of becoming Jack Frost has sparked my muse! What would it be like to see the world from Jack Frost's eyes? ^^ Rather magical I expect
Poor butterfly... At least it didn't feel any pain... }
-xoxoxo-
