((Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash))
I regard the humans walking past, even through, me in their exceedingly fast paces. I am but a giant, slowly traveling their earth in my white cloak of soft hail. They shiver as I continue my own bitter pace. My joy brings them great sorrow as their pink ears and chapped lips wane for the comforts of a warm home, or dream of a hot beverage. Nobody acknowledges my presence, except to complain of the goosebumps I cause on their delicate skins.
None of this deters me; not even the fact that I have not verbally interacted with another soul for eternity. I am older than time itself, yet I do not conceptualise this amount of time; time is everything yet it is nothing. I am time. I do not know how long I have been traveling this globe, my white cloak fanning out behind me. Ethereal, pale hair spills to my waist, and blanched breaths escape with each note I sing as I twirl in a flurry of glistening happiness.
"I am Frost, Frost is me,
"My cold breaths, they set the humans free.
"And when one walks across the sky,
"With their frozen heartbeats spry,
"The snow descends with gentleness,
"And to the minute humans, I bring happiness"
I giggle, sharp notes escalating and causing the earth to freeze. Some bodies of water are shattered atop like the cracking of a mirror. The silver shine sparkles in the weakened sunlight - a golden hue. My presence brings the world to a sharp cruscendo as I peer closer at my ever-present influence on the human world. Then, in a millisecond, there has been an accident; the driver dead, ambulance appearing and exiting in a flash of red and blue.
I continue to walk, remembering the Creator of All's voice as he set me out to create the winter hues. "They are below you, do not mourn if one dies."
I have seen murder, robbery and a manner of violent endings for the humans. Yet few are caused by me. I know that speeding and influences can be to blame. Still, that driver was seemingly fully capable of continuing. It was I that killed him; my cold blood, my presence. I am a murderer. Creator forgive me.
I cry, the world around me darkening. My shrieks are thunder, my wild ice lightning-shaped staligtites and -mites, and my tears frozen raindrops.
But my sadness is short-lived as the creator's words come back to me. Still, I am at a standstill considering every loss to this world that I am responsible for. How many have I left behind me? But I am Frost. Frost is me. I am simply doing what the Creator of All has instructed me to do. He said Himself that there would be casualties; that it would not be my fault. He was to blame and I was not to think any differently of him because of this. Is the Creatoris a murderer? Am I a tool simply to rid His world of his other creations? Am I equally unlovable to Him as His smaller creations?
I ponder over the endless time I have spent walking the world, taking with me the Winter. I know I have spent too much time in this spot. The humans are endlessly complaining that the Winter has been troubling them for six moons. To me, that is twice the time it takes to cross a single continent. Still, my grief holds on.
Something approaches from behind, a warmth. I turn, walking in the opposite direction of which the Creator of All instructed me to. If he wished for me to stop he would express so. Soon, walking across the horizon comes a man. Not a human man; a man of the Creator. His hair is bronze sunlight, much brighter than the light rays of sun which are insignificant next to my Winter, his eyes a lush colour like that of an evergreen tree, yet softer. He wears a bright blue sky with him, his skin golden under beams of light. He is as surprised to see me as I am him.
"Who are you? Are you one of the Creator of All?" he begs of me.
"I am Frost, bringer of Winter and timeless creation of the Creator. Whom are you?" I respond, my icy breath fading in his presence.
"I am Sunlight, bearer of Summer and first creation of Him."
My life essence is fading away, my snows fading to slushy water. My ice heart weakens and liquefies.
"You must leave," Sunlight warns. "Your essence is fading. You must bring the Winter to the other side of this globe at this time."
"I... Can't." I'm beginning to fade, my hands becoming invisible to both myself and Sunlight.
"Creator! Creator of All!" the bearer of Summer calls. "Frost needs you!"
In a flash of light, Sunlight is gone and I am walking across the Pacific ocean beside the Creator.
"I told you not to pity the humans, Frost," He states.
"I know, Creator. I simply felt to blame."
"Remember what I told you, bringer of Winter. Should you forget again, I will not let you walk this earth any longer."
He places the fourth digit on his left hand to my temple. All memories of Sunlight are fading. The lives of humans are once again nondescript; unnecessary. I simply know two exclusive items: what the Creator of All told me, and that I am Frost. Frost is me.
