Life Is Hiding Your Feelings | Magical Beings

Winter’s Queen

Cold, cold heart

The heart can get really cold if all you’ve known is winter.

Benjamin Alire Saenz

He called to me one icy January evening.

Snow, blizzard, moon, I came to him in the twilight, The eerie half-light that never disappears. He was life outside warmth. He was unfeeling. Now unfeeling is all I know.

He was an engulfing force of the coldest white Enclosing his name throughout my heart, An ever-tightening constriction. Taken by him and the wind, The breath ripped from my mouth, The darkness first broke, then swallowed me.

Much later, traveling the Land of Ice and Snow, I focused my eyes on each snowflake, visualizing the way to the Arctic, the lair of the North Wind. I walked the frozen stretches, following the polar bear’s sharp-clawed feet, as he had followed the elusive seal.

The snow reflected, blinding any who would gaze upon it save me, though as I journeyed further and further in, even I felt the ice in the frozen channels of my heart, and my blood ran sluggishly in my veins.

Strength ebbing, I failed to find the paths holding them, his hunters, the terrible powers he had summoned from beyond. I could not go on. In the end, he kept our child.

The snow doesn’t give a soft white damn whom it touches. E.E. Cummings

Susannah Stewart complained to Merriam-Webster.

“That story’s too sad. I’m gonna tell one with a better ending. I don’t like it when the bad guys win.”

Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it’s only because in my dream I’m a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands.

Pablo Neruda

I am the Snow Queen

Always portrayed as heartless.

Unfeeling, frozen

She is flying there where the swarm is thickest. She is the largest of them all and never remains on the earth, but flies up to the dark clouds. Often at midnight she flies through the streets of the town and breathes with her frosty breath upon the windows; then the ice freezes on the panes into wonderful forms that look like flowers and castles.

The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson

I see the child through the frozen windowpane. I whisper to her to meet me on the gathering snow. This one I will save.