When Winter first agreed to be Queen of the Snow, it was exciting. Getting life to herself. Feeling the brisk cold against her cheek. Tasting the snowflakes as they fell from the heavens. The first couple of months were cool—or “cold”, as a Snow Queen would probably say. But as time wore on, it just became old. It wasn’t the new and exciting, as it used to be. It was the same thing, day in and day out. Snow, cold, lack of things going on.
Winter was sick of it. She wanted company. She wanted living things to talk to. Something that would talk back. She could not remember the last time she talked to something alive.
The frostbite that Winter had gotten used to long ago was tingling on her skin. It always did this when she was especially wanting attention. She thought of her sisters, Spring and Summer. She thought of all the baby rabbits and birds they got to live with all the time. She thought of her other sister, Autumn. Autumn got to hang with the squirrels. And what did Winter get? Nothing. Sleeping bears and snow.
Winter wanted desperately to see the those squirrels and birds. She wanted to see the color of the flowers. She forgot what color looked like long ago. The only colors left were black and white. Bright white. She'd give anything to feel the sun on her cold skin.
Winter's white hair was dry and frizzy from the winter weather. She wished she could wash it, but the rivers were always frozen over with ice. Winter let her head fall into her hands and cried tears of ice.