i woke up to the soft pitter-pattering fluttering footsteps out my window.
even before i opened my eyes, i know the snow fairies have came, small, but in troops, descending on earth.
i watched as i snuggled deeper into my covers… shivering. some of them came by and said hello through the blinds that i left open last night. i realized they come by different shapes and sizes.
they keep on hurdling down in a speed so alarming they descended on a different angle, but descended still. sometimes more vertically, sometimes more diagonally, i wondered if the wind had hurt them. because you know, snow fairies aren’t supposed to stumble and fall. they’re supposed to glide and gleam and shine like swarovskis falling from the sky.
i got up and laid my palm on the window. with the mind of a little girl i looked up to the sky and knew that it would not stop soon. the ice queen was furious and angry. the little fleet of snow fairies that came days ago are now slushy and grey, defeated into sludge. i saw the cloudy gates wide open, and saw them in sprinklers charging towards the frozen grounds–meanwhile below, i heard the snow truck clearing away the freshly embedded troops from the streets, deliberately killing them.
the shrill, high pitched cry of the ice queen was unmistakable.
“humans.” she shook in fury, and with all that she can summon, she slowly disintegrated, creating more snow troops out of her own most noble and coldest flesh.
the little girl in my head… she was crying. i caressed the cold glass with the tip of my forefinger, as if trying to reach for snow, as if scared that they would melt because of my heat.
“something’s got to give.” the little girl in my head said.
the ice queen didn’t stop. with a maddening glare she looked at earth, her slender legs reduced to stumps.
“but if you always give, you will run out.”
her glare softens and in my mind, she looked at the little girl.
“i know.” she said, barely a whisper. “but don’t you see how white and beautiful it is when they are fresh?”
she teared, and that too became snowflakes.
“i have been shamed. the slush and the wet and the cold that got into peoples’ boots and heels and leather shoes… they are pieces of me dying and dead from the thousands of feet and car tyres. but don’t they remember when they were five and saw me for the very first time for what i was and smiled?”
silence. neither i, nor the little girl felt like it was our place to say anything at all.
“i’m going to die a thousand death.” she gestured towards the millions of her own self now insignificant bits of white ice. “and even though they cannot love me forever, at least at this moment, i want to remind them why they once had loved snow.”
2012(c) Victoria Rahardjo
please do not take without my consent.