Austy Quinn's Christmas Special I

Chapter 12: Acacia's Snowman

As stated before, Alamosa was covered in snow. It wasn't unbearably deep, but it still was something quite fierce. And for Acacia, it would be something more tumultuous.

She woke Christmas morning, feeling as though she had just gotten over a hangover. It was...a bittersweet feeling to her. She knew the routine; she would go downstairs, she would have Christmas, and she would return to her room. Still feeling empty, still unsure as to how she felt.

She walked down the steps, and with each step, she could feel her excitement slip away. That was until she saw the tree. Under it was a giant box, wrapped in delicate red-and-black paper. It was probably as tall as her, and it made her wonder what it was. Especially when she saw it was addressed to her. That filled her with hope, because she felt like being an adult stripped her of this feeling.

She tore off the wrapping, and she opened the box. Inside was a small, white, blank mannequin. It was unnerving as to what it was. But she took it out and laid it on the floor. It was her height, and it was about her body size as well. There was a small bag in it, as well. On it

were written the words "BUILD-A-SNOWMAN" on it. She smiled a little bit. Whoever got her this, well, it was certainly interesting.

She dug around the box and found a small instruction manual.

Put the mannequin deep within snow.

She took it outside and made a burrow in the snow with a shovel. Sure, it was early, but it could not wait. She had to try it. She placed the mannequin deep within the snow, and covered it, just as the instruction manual told her.

2. Drop the bag's contents into the snow.

She ripped open the bag and took out small beads. They looked like tiny glass bubbles to her, reflecting the sun's glare on the snow. She did as the instructions said to do and sprinkled them on top of the snow, where she watched them sink to where the mannequin was.

3. Wait.

So she waited. God, it felt like an eternity to her. Had it been thirty minutes? Had it been an hour? Had it been a year?! She couldn't tell. Her hopeful spirit was not allowing her to truly track the time.

After what felt like an eternity of sitting, waiting, hoping and praying, she started to get up. Maybe it was just a bust. As she started for the house, she heard a gasp of air. She turned around as quick as a lightning strike to find a hand grasping the sky, wanting release from the snow. She ran up and pulled it out, only to gasp in pure shock. The hand...was warm. It had skin. She kept pulling, and where the mannequin was now resided a boy, appearing her age. He had short brown hair, and glittering blue eyes, the size of lakes. His face was lightly freckled, and he had an innocent smile plastered on it. He said nothing, for he didn't need to. It was this moment, Acacia knew that this moment was something unique.

She took him back to the house and got him some of her dad's old clothes, protecting him with warmth. She was so surprised that it worked, she didn't even think it would. But here he was. Her Snowman.

She knew she had to name him, too, as it was undignified to leave someone nameless. So she named him Jack. Jack Frost. She thought it was stereotypical, but she thought it was a lovely name.

And so, Acacia and Jack sat. They sat and Acacia talked, and Jack listened. Acacia told her stories of love, woe and adventure, and Jack never interrupted her. He listened. His blue eyes watched her attentively, making sure she got the attention she deserved. They took pictures together, and she put some on her wall.

Acacia started a fire, and Jack brought her logs. She started to cook, and Jack would bring out the dishes. It was like her dream had come true. Nothing could go wrong between them.

It was a nice Christmas Day for her, something she had not had in a long time.

But as the day progressed, Acacia felt as though she had been spinning tale after tale, woe after woe, and Jack never had anything to say to that. No personal story to connect to it. It was like she had her man, but she only had the good parts. The gilded shell. She wanted the bad parts, his stories of pain so she could cuddle him in front of the fire and tell him everything was alright.

But Jack had no such tales. All he had were words of kindness, of love, of cheer. No sadness, no hate, no anger.

And despite that, Acacia cried. She cried because she knew that he wasn't real, real enough to her. He didn't act like a normal human should. He didn't cry. He didn't get upset. He was only happy. And calm.

Did that make her upset? No. She got upset because if the perfect man for her wasn't perfect enough, she would have nothing. Jack thought she didn't need a man to be happy. Acacia leaned against him, as all he could do now was prevent her from falling. But still, Jack listened.

It grew late, the light outside had finally been consumed by the darkness. Acacia had fallen sound asleep, tear streaks on her face leaned up against Jack. He took her to her bed, and tucked her in. He smiled as he looked at the pictures she and he took together. He hoped she would never forget this moment.

Try as Jack might, he could never be the perfect man for Acacia. To him, she already was perfect. And she always would be.

So, Jack left. He took off, leaving the house and Acacia and returning to his home, his birthplace. The snow. No one knows what happened to him, but Acacia will never forget the day she learned from Jack Frost that she could be independent from a man.

End of Chapter 12