The snowmen here have all lost their faces. There are pieces here and there; once i found a top hat in my driveway. When I first came here to this cold place I used to wonder who could take away the pieces from the snowmen. I wondered where the dream of Frosty had gone, with his smiles and ability to dance. All the snowmen here are motionless, they scare with button eyes (and some do not even have eyes), and their stick like hands reach out so closely together that it’s hard to get down the street without being scratched.
I used to have nightmares where I ran and ran away from them all, bloody from their icy sticks, and without shoes my feet were like leaded ice. Their carrot noses looked rotten and molded and they brought no cheer… only the cold: desolate, lonely and frightened.
They do not scare me anymore. I started to try and gather all the pieces I could and fix them. I gave a sad small snowman the top hat from my driveway and I bought them all new carrots. One of them I gave a raincoat too and I think I almost saw a smile on his charcoal mouth. They still do not move and they’re hearts are frozen in time. Their stick like hands no longer frighten me, though, as I dress them in tinsle and golden christmas bobs. They can never be like Frosty, but I have made do with what they are.
My hands are cold and my lips are blue. I have been in this cold place for so long. When I first laid eyes on it’s crystaline sphere it was dazzleing and all I could ever think of was ice skating in the moonlight, but when I walked down to the river beds, the lakes, the streams and the smaller ponds…. they were all cracked and waiting ambiently for me to test my wit. The cold can bite you here, deep and somber. There are nights when your breath is so chill that you can see streaks of ice in the air and it’s deadly to cry. It is like a desert and there is only so much to drink, but I am not alone here. I have found few like myself and we carry our warmth with us. Some even help me decorate the snowmen when it is not so cold, but they fear the outside more than I do. They are afraid to hold red hands and blue lips as I. I have the winter inside of me…. my eyes are crystal and my hair breaths fire.
Soon I will come in to feel the Yule log and drink hot coffee by the tableside. I will share with you all the stories of this place, all the shadows, all the dreams locked inside of the snow. Time is frozen here in a dazed state. If it was not for the family I have found here I would have left long ago. Soon…. I think they will see the sun. By the turn of 11 new moons I will find my way back home. I will show you what secrets I have kept in my locket of this place…. secrets they do not know here…. secrets they could never know.