Jack Frost

Frost

An eight-year-old boy peered over the crib at a newborn baby girl. She was sleeping soundly; tiny and gentle. But she looked cold, so he reached in to pull the blanket over her...

"Don't." A voice said. The boy froze in place.

"Dad, why can't I hold my sister?" The child's feet were clinging onto the rim of the crib, so desperate to see her face.

"Because you might hurt her." The older, gray-haired gargantuan said to him.

"I'll be careful, I promise!" The brown-haired and brown-eyed boy begged, hopping off of the crib and gazing straight into his father's eyes. The older man could see his son's desperation, but he couldn't take any risks—he had to numb the guilt from causing the boy's pain.

"Jackson, you know you're still too young... once you learn to control yourself, you can play with your sister all you want." He ruffled his hair, Jack however continued to grimace and he turned away.

"You say that all the time," he wandered over to the small window, watching the children enviously, "you and Mama still don't even let me go outside."

"I never said it would be easy." Jack's father joined him, wishing his child could be one of them as well. "But you need to be patient. Keep learning to hide it, and then you can be as free as you want." The pouty child crossed his arms on the windowsill.

"But if I'm hiding it, I'm not free." His father grabbed his chin and turned his head towards him.

"Jack... they just won't understand. They'll fear you." Blinking and mustering an even more heartbroken expression, Jack showed that he was listening, "Our village doesn't accept things they don't understand." He tried to comfort his son, give him warmth and reassurance that he'd just have to wait a little longer, but the solemn child grabbed his hand.

"You don't understand it. How come you and Mama accept me then?"

"Because we love you." He reminded; it was the most important thing his child had to know.

...

It was November 20, 1823, when Jackson Overland was born in a small village in the Buskerud region of what is today called Norway. He belonged to Emily and Nicholas Overland, an ordinary couple in an even more ordinary place. Their son was their blessing—they had waited so anxiously to meet him. He never showed to be different than any other newborn; he was just as giggly and curious as the next infant boy, if a little shy. He was the most perfect baby, with round cheeks and soft skin.

It was but one night during the winter that Emily woke up to her wailing infant that she saw dustings of ice and snow sweeping from outside the crib and onto the walls. No windows were open, but by the looks of it, it appeared that Jack had created the snow himself; he was lying in the frost, not covered in it. No one had a word for what it was, no books were written on such a power or curse. They couldn't explain why it happened to them, why their boy? There had been a lunar eclipse during Emily's pregnancy, but that wouldn't explain the strange origin of his... 'gift.' Would it?

One day, when the boy was five, he was giddily watching the other children playing hopscotch when he asked, "Mama, can I go outside and play?" He bounced delightedly as he waited for her answer. Emily's grip on her book tightened; what was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell an innocent child a harsh No when he hadn't done anything to deserve punishment. She didn't turn to him; Emily knew that if she saw the smile she was about to erase, the excitement and joy that was about to vanish, she'd lose her strength. She closed the book and took a deep breath.

"...No." She mumbled. It was so soft that she hoped he hadn't heard it, but unfortunately, his hops ceased and he looked at her, puzzled.

"Why not?" She hated that question. He was sweet and enjoyable at home; it was a shame that the other children couldn't get to enjoy his company as well. She knew it wasn't fair.