Winter’s Son

A snapshot of misery from a world of wretched fairytales.

There once was a forest, full of looming pines with tattered bark. If you crossed the eastern river and climbed the steep slope behind it you could see a small villa, not much more than a dozen houses and a trading post. It was fraught with icy weather year-round, just northern enough to get the chill of the poles.

One pitch-black December night, two young siblings lay awake in bed. They were twins, matching in mind and mischievous nature, and they were bored with the stuffy shelter. Their father, the villa’s blacksmith, had told them never to leave the house past sunset. Mother Winter roamed around in the later months, he had said in a low whisper. She would wreak pain and misery on their meager little town if they challenged her.

Theo, the elder by a scant few minutes, told her brother that this wasn’t true. Papa wasn’t afraid of anything. He must have been trying to scare them. She pulled off the thread worn covers and peeked out the window, breath fogging the frost-bitten glass. Prying open the latch with a soft creak, she slipped out and landed safely on the ground. Noah, more hesitant but loyal to his twin, waited a moment before following.

“Come on, to the forest!” Theo urged with a quiet hush of words, running off into the distance, her boots leaving clear imprints in the ankle-high snow. The two were the same age, but Noah was smaller than his sister, thin and wide-eyed in a way that made him look younger. He struggled to keep up, stumbling over his own feet until he could barely see her beyond the trees.

It was dark. And cold, for that matter, even though the two of them had donned their usual winter gear in a show of oddly-mature awareness. But the sun’s fall had brought about a shadow unlike that of the frosty evenings, seeping into Noah’s bones as he called out for Theo to wait. She gave no response. Frustrated, he continued running, sure that she would stop when she realized he wasn’t able to match her pace. Her footprints were the only guidance he had, the lack of light limiting his vision drastically.

He had paused for breath, leaning against a large pine, when he heard Theo cry out. The town had disappeared behind him long ago, and a glance upwards proved that it was snowing once again. Their footprints would be covered in no time. But Theo hadn’t sounded like she wanted him to catch up. She sounded like she was in pain.

He ran further into the woods, his heart pounding in his chest. Minutes passed and eventually, he reached a clearing, the towering trees giving way to cold, starry skies. Theo was lying in the snow; face-down and still as death. He dared not approach. There was a woman behind her with sallow skin and ragged hair, her sharp gaze trained on Noah. Her tattered dress trailed behind her despite the lack of wind, an ancient garment that he remembered only from the stories Nana told before she passed.

Noah was a quiet boy, but he wasn’t oblivious. He met the woman’s gaze. “Mother Winter?” She said nothing, but extended a gnarled hand and beckoned him to come closer. He did, clenching fists by his sides so he wouldn’t have the urge to check on Theo. Mother Winter seemed mad enough already.

“I must destroy this town,” She said simply, her voice little more than a wisp of air. “But you are the first one who has recognized me in centuries.” Her dead eyes were sad, somehow, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Who do you want? I can save one, bring them to the Northern city.” She let him think, his wide eyes darting to the sky above, then to his sister lying in the snow.

His face was calm, accepting. “My sister, please.” The choice echoed into the clearing, and before he could continue, the wind began to pick up around the three of them. Some life had returned to Theo’s pale cheeks already.

Mother Winter stared at him for a long moment, her eyes an eerily pale shade of blue under the light of the stars. Howls of movement through the air brought snowflakes tumbling past him, but for once the cold brought no misery. “Take my hand, child. I will teach you what to do with this kindness of yours once the blizzard has passed.” He shuffled closer and did so, pressing an apologetic kiss to his twin’s cheek. She would be happier in the city.

The dark ring of trees faded to white as the snow and wind intensified, and Noah closed his eyes. The last thing he saw before falling to unconsciousness was Mother Winter before him, her eyes icicles gleaming like stars, a small smile tugging at the corners of her weary face.

Genre: Fantasy/Folklore

Age Range: 12+

Word Count: 820

Author: Kingsley

Hook: A book of wretched fairytales, fraught with struggles and half-happy endings.

Why This Project? It gives the publisher the ability to work with the currently written stories and give guidance for future additions, and the twist on the well-known fable genre is sure to grab the audience's attention.

Synopsis: A collection of short stories written from a darker perspective of fairy tales, both reconstructs of old classics and completely new originals.

Target Audience: Teens/adults

Your Bio: Heya! I'm Pheobe, just your average city-dweller typing away on my trusty computer most hours of the day. The pandemic has given me a bit more free time to work with, so I've decided to see what I can do writing-wise. I hope my ideas are to your liking! Thanks for sending out this opportunity.