( This is Jack Frost... if the moon had killed him, instead of turning him into a guardian. It's dark love, so 17 for blood, weirdness, launguage, and utter dementedness. I'm bored, I wanna write, soooo.... yeah, whatever, let's get to it, ya'll. )
Darkness....
It was cold...
And I was scared.
But then... heh..
Then I saw the moon.
It was so BIG, and bright: it seemed to.. CHASE the darkness away.
The ice cracked around me, as I was lifted from it, gasping in the chilly air, wondering how I was alive.
The moon glimmered above me, and I smiled, feeling at peace.
It set me down gently, and I looked around, wondering where I was.
My hand caught my attention:pure white, with delicate black veins running through it, the skin as white as new fallen snow...
the colour of a corpse.
Jack.
I started, looking around: who...?
Your name is...
My name is Jack Overland Frost.
Why do I know that?
Because the moon told me.
He also told me I had drowned, after my sister and I foolishly went ice~skating too close to the thaw, and she was now in her 20's.
i'd been floating under that ice for over ten years...
I was 18, the moon had said, and I'd BE 18 forever.
It also told me to let my anger flow, and had given me a gift:
A oak staff, topped with a winter~silver blade.....
Time passed, years went by, and I generally stayed to myself.
About ten years ago, I'd gotten to see my face is a shattered mirror someone had left besides the riverbed:
Silver~white hair, eyes a dark shade of amber, etched through with red veins, a small deathshead pattern on the iris's of each one.
My skin was covered in the black veins, crisscrossing in delicate spirals across the death~whiteness.
I was terrible looking, but unusually handsome: I'd apparantly been a decent enough looker in life.
My body was thin, angular, shoulder blades as sharp as knives, legs thin enough to be a skeletons.
Whatever had done this, there was no turning back: Jack Frost was who I was, regardless of any past life.
Years spent in solitude had taught me one thing: I could be seen, but not heard, felt but not touched, and sensed but not be.
In sense, I was a spirit, but with enough mortality left to be on this plane.
Even as my family died, since it WAS 1792 when I died, I remained, wandering the woods besides the river, looking endlessly for...
something.
Whatever it was, it drove me to wander, and as I wandered....
I discovered blood.
The redness... the warm, red, sweetness of it..
Sure, a few heads rolled, but no one really noticed: I moved on too fast for anyone to really put a pattern together, and what was left of them rarely gave clues anyway, unless I planted false evidence to frame someone.
I found that it... soothed me inner ache, feed my frozen heart, healed my shattered soul.
The moon never spoke to me again, but I knew he was watching...
I found what it was my searches ached for a few years after leaving Burkittsville, Maryland, and heading to the po~dunk town of Gaitlin, Nebraska.
She was seated at the edge of the bench, not really talking to any of the teens mingling around the crowded veranda off the school, nose buried in a paperback Anne Rice novel.
Her hair was a dark as midnight, eyes an unusual light violet colour, body slim and delicate without being ungangly thin.
She was beautiful, and dark, clothed in a STFU@GTFO shirt of a dark purple shade, black jeans with the knees torn out, and high~heeled black boots with silver buckles.
I'd clutched my chest when I'd first laid eyes on her, a heat that was painful and wonderful burning in my soul:
whoever this girl was, merely SEEING her had melted the ice of my heart.
She was all I needed, all my dead heart ached for: I reached out to her, the black veins of my hand glowing silver.
She looked up, and looked right into my eyes, their violet colour making my heart fly, my soul sing...
She was my love, my own, Juliet to my Romeo, Ying to my Yang, the missing piece of my heart.
".....Elenore......"
I whispered, knowing her name from the skull~decorated tag pinned crookedly to her chest.
" ...Elenore..."
A cold wind blew, my hair whipping around my face, the scent of new fallen snow in a place snow never fell wafting towards her, as her eyes widened.
She'd heard me... she saw me...
Her eyes registered the blood on my hands, the stains on my sweater, my death~white skin, the black veins, my amber eyes...
and she smiled, smiled like an angel from above.
My heart shattered: I was in love.
Love... that mushy emotion that made the slender~hipped boys at the school walk with a swagger, wear revealing shirts, and act the fool.
Love... what Shakespeare wrote about.
Love... what mindless killers like myself aren't supposed to have.
As Elenore rose, presumably to come over to the stand of trees I watched from, I rushed away, afraid and unsure, lost and confused.
The heat tore through my heart, fighting the icy rage.
I let out a yell,tearing my sweater, raging against small animals and trees, leaving behind a trail of blood and bark.
" AHHHHHHHHH...... AHHHHHHHH!!!!"
I screamed, cords standing out in my neck as my vocal cords let loose an almost animalistic cry of grief, heartache, and love.
Love for her....
Elenore....
Jack, your acting rashly....
"What? WHAT?!? No, no... you don't just IGNORE me for 300 goddamn years, THEN decide to ' Jack your acting rash'. No! Damn you, NO!"
The moon's voice fell silent, as I let out a scream of rage, tearing through the trees blindly.
" Why are you yelling?"
I froze: time stopped.
My heart stopped.
Nothing mattered, no meant anything, nothing in the world...
Except her voice: clear and high, like the tinkling of a bell, drifting beautifully on the soft breeze to me, warming my heart all over again.
I turned to her, her raven hair tied back in a loose ponytail,
a smile on her lips, despite the blood staining mine.
" You can hear me?"
She nodded, gazing at me with an intense fire in her eyes, her soul clearly on display for anyone to see...
burning with her instant love for me... me... Jack Frost.
" I can. I saw you at the school. "
She smiled shyly.
" You're very handsome. "
My heart fluttered, as I smiled easily.
" You're beautiful."
Her lips smiled, but her eyes blazed, passion so intense it could burn us both flaming there.
She ran her hand tenderly over my cheek, smearing the blood staining it.
"You're so pale... "
" I died a long time ago."
She frowned, her eyes still blazing.
" it's warm here."
She said, laying her hand on my chest.
" It's my heart: you've set it on fire."
With her eyes twinkling, she took my hand in her own, and we kissed, kissed beneath the slowly setting sun, kissed in the safety of the trees, kissed to let loose a burning passion.
( This is Jack Frost... if the moon had killed him, instead of turning him into a guardian. It's dark love, so 17 for blood, weirdness, launguage, and utter dementedness. I'm bored, I wanna write, soooo.... yeah, whatever, let's get to it, ya'll.
)
Darkness....
It was cold...
And I was scared.
But then... heh..
Then I saw the moon.
It was so BIG, and bright: it seemed to.. CHASE the darkness away.
The ice cracked around me, as I was lifted from it, gasping in the chilly air, wondering how I was alive.
The moon glimmered above me, and I smiled, feeling at peace.
It set me down gently, and I looked around, wondering where I was.
My hand caught my attention:pure white, with delicate black veins running through it, the skin as white as new fallen snow...
the colour of a corpse.
Jack.
I started, looking around: who...?
Your name is...
My name is Jack Overland Frost.
Why do I know that?
Because the moon told me.
He also told me I had drowned, after my sister and I foolishly went ice~skating too close to the thaw, and she was now in her 20's.
i'd been floating under that ice for over ten years...
I was 18, the moon had said, and I'd BE 18 forever.
It also told me to let my anger flow, and had given me a gift:
A oak staff, topped with a winter~silver blade.....
Time passed, years went by, and I generally stayed to myself.
About ten years ago, I'd gotten to see my face is a shattered mirror someone had left besides the riverbed:
Silver~white hair, eyes a dark shade of amber, etched through with red veins, a small deathshead pattern on the iris's of each one.
My skin was covered in the black veins, crisscrossing in delicate spirals across the death~whiteness.
I was terrible looking, but unusually handsome: I'd apparantly been a decent enough looker in life.
My body was thin, angular, shoulder blades as sharp as knives, legs thin enough to be a skeletons.
Whatever had done this, there was no turning back: Jack Frost was who I was, regardless of any past life.
Years spent in solitude had taught me one thing: I could be seen, but not heard, felt but not touched, and sensed but not be.
In sense, I was a spirit, but with enough mortality left to be on this plane.
Even as my family died, since it WAS 1792 when I died, I remained, wandering the woods besides the river, looking endlessly for...
something.
Whatever it was, it drove me to wander, and as I wandered....
I discovered blood.
The redness... the warm, red, sweetness of it..
Sure, a few heads rolled, but no one really noticed: I moved on too fast for anyone to really put a pattern together, and what was left of them rarely gave clues anyway, unless I planted false evidence to frame someone.
I found that it... soothed me inner ache, feed my frozen heart, healed my shattered soul.
The moon never spoke to me again, but I knew he was watching...
I found what it was my searches ached for a few years after leaving Burkittsville, Maryland, and heading to the po~dunk town of Gaitlin, Nebraska.
She was seated at the edge of the bench, not really talking to any of the teens mingling around the crowded veranda off the school, nose buried in a paperback Anne Rice novel.
Her hair was a dark as midnight, eyes an unusual light violet colour, body slim and delicate without being ungangly thin.
She was beautiful, and dark, clothed in a STFU@GTFO shirt of a dark purple shade, black jeans with the knees torn out, and high~heeled black boots with silver buckles.
I'd clutched my chest when I'd first laid eyes on her, a heat that was painful and wonderful burning in my soul:
whoever this girl was, merely SEEING her had melted the ice of my heart.
She was all I needed, all my dead heart ached for: I reached out to her, the black veins of my hand glowing silver.
She looked up, and looked right into my eyes, their violet colour making my heart fly, my soul sing...
She was my love, my own, Juliet to my Romeo, Ying to my Yang, the missing piece of my heart.
".....Elenore......"
I whispered, knowing her name from the skull~decorated tag pinned crookedly to her chest.
" ...Elenore..."
A cold wind blew, my hair whipping around my face, the scent of new fallen snow in a place snow never fell wafting towards her, as her eyes widened.
She'd heard me... she saw me...
Her eyes registered the blood on my hands, the stains on my sweater, my death~white skin, the black veins, my amber eyes...
and she smiled, smiled like an angel from above.
My heart shattered: I was in love.
Love... that mushy emotion that made the slender~hipped boys at the school walk with a swagger, wear revealing shirts, and act the fool.
Love... what Shakespeare wrote about.
Love... what mindless killers like myself aren't supposed to have.
As Elenore rose, presumably to come over to the stand of trees I watched from, I rushed away, afraid and unsure, lost and confused.
The heat tore through my heart, fighting the icy rage.
I let out a yell,tearing my sweater, raging against small animals and trees, leaving behind a trail of blood and bark.
" AHHHHHHHHH...... AHHHHHHHH!!!!"
I screamed, cords standing out in my neck as my vocal cords let loose an almost animalistic cry of grief, heartache, and love.
Love for her....
Elenore....
Jack, your acting rashly....
"What? WHAT?!? No, no... you don't just IGNORE me for 300 goddamn years, THEN decide to ' Jack your acting rash'. No! Damn you, NO!"
The moon's voice fell silent, as I let out a scream of rage, tearing through the trees blindly.
" Why are you yelling?"
I froze: time stopped.
My heart stopped.
Nothing mattered, no meant anything, nothing in the world...
Except her voice: clear and high, like the tinkling of a bell, drifting beautifully on the soft breeze to me, warming my heart all over again.
I turned to her, her raven hair tied back in a loose ponytail,
a smile on her lips, despite the blood staining mine.
" You can hear me?"
She nodded, gazing at me with an intense fire in her eyes, her soul clearly on display for anyone to see...
burning with her instant love for me... me... Jack Frost.
" I can. I saw you at the school. "
She smiled shyly.
" You're very handsome. "
My heart fluttered, as I smiled easily.
" You're beautiful."
Her lips smiled, but her eyes blazed, passion so intense it could burn us both flaming there.
She ran her hand tenderly over my cheek, smearing the blood staining it.
"You're so pale... "
" I died a long time ago."
She frowned, her eyes still blazing.
" it's warm here."
She said, laying her hand on my chest.
" It's my heart: you've set it on fire."
With her eyes twinkling, she took my hand in her own, and we kissed, kissed beneath the slowly setting sun, kissed in the safety of the trees, kissed to let loose a burning passion.
" I love you."
" I love you. "
And the rest, I owe the moon for.
THE END
Edited by TheTimidLight