I wrote this as a Christmas present for a fellow writer on the Fantasy-writers.org site. Personally I'm quite pleased with it, almost want to write it over as a five minute animated short.
Written by Michelle Nielsen
Left, right, left, right. He moved on, yet unmoved by his surroundings. Stark white glistened around him as he trudged on. His mantle of furs may as well have been gossamer for all they did against the penetrating cold, but his pale skin and dark cold eyes held a deeper truth. His existence depended on the dead chill.
Left right, left right. Past forests frosted white with powdery snow, transformed into frothy glaciers. His footsteps fell in single-minded determination. He paused not to look upon the dazzling diamond brilliance of the white-clad world around him. It held no beauty for him, for eons he’d known its appearance.
Left right, left right. Behind him the frozen forests stood and he ventured into the open. Vast open space shrouded in glistening white lay before him, in the far distance, framed by the fading shimmer of distant stars a single filament of ice reached for the dark heavens above that formed the cosmos. Wheeling and dancing, colliding with their neighbors, the whole of the universe drifted in an eternal cold dark night. He would not, could not be moved by the beauty and power of the cosmos. That too, he’d seen too often.
Left right, left right. Frozen feet moved of their own accord, onwards towards the glistening pinnacle of ice. As he drew closer, the goal grew clearer. The filament towered over the glacial plain. Wind hammered at him, but he would not be deterred, impervious to the biting cold. Something was trapped in the filament of ice.
Left right, left right. He drew closer, now able to see the figure trapped within the tower of ice. He slowed. The one thing of beauty that moved him. The old cold heart of winter stirred looking upon it. A maid, young and fair looked sadly at him from her icy prison, her skin rosy where his was pale, her garments light and flowery where he wore the mantle of winter.
A withered, pale skinned hand reached for her face. His palm rested on the ice above the perfect blush of her cheek. A sigh of breath escaped his chest, longing filled his cold old body. He could not yet find another way for them to be together, but for her to be trapped eternal in a moment in time.