The snowy child

The snowy child

Only during the coldest winter days the snowy child will come. The grown ups fear this child, for it is known to take away young boys and girls from time to time into freezing cold. Misa’s parents too were afraid of this spirit but they knew all the things to do to keep it away from town. Or so they thought.

When Misa had not yet been born, her parents had lived in a small wooden house on the outskirts of town, somewhere in the North. During the shortest day of the season before the springtime Misa was born, it had snowed. All sounds had been drowned and anyone who ventured outside would hear nothing but his own breath and the cracking of snow. But that day the pure silence was broken by the cry of a baby which clearly rang through the snow-covered pine trees. The young couple knew it was not possible such a cry could reach their house and there were no newly born in the village either.
     The next day one of the villagers claimed he had seen a lone white wolf and found fresh footprints in the morning snow, circling the village. The wolf had clearly been one of the various shapes the child could take. That evening the villagers created a bonfire built out of pine wood outside of town, a gift of warmth, and placed an offering of food. The young couple was afraid this being would want to take their unborn child, but apparently it had been pleased by the offering. The following spring, Misa was born and the year was exceptionally bright and the harvest bounteous.
     Several years had passed, and only during the dark days of winter, people still claimed they saw the snowy child. Sometimes as a polecat or a barn owl, or as a lonely white goose and very rarely as a curious silver fox. Once, someone saw the figure of a young boy or girl with white-blond hair standing barefoot in a foot of snow without showing any discomfort at all, before it ran away seeming terrified. The villagers were mystified of this behavior and, consequently, very scared. Rumors would come from the nearby towns where people had heard indescribable sounds of wailing coming from the mountains. Clearly nobody knew exactly what it was. A boy or a girl? Or just a spirit?

Misa’s parents never told their daughter about the snowy child, and made certain nobody spoke of it in her presence. It so happened that Misa grew up to a curious six-year-old who loved to play in the snow, climb the naked trees and slide herself with some wooden skates over the frozen flats of the lake. But she was never to go out at night, during the very coldest days of the winter. Her parents maintained ever vigilant, and tied small twigs of pine trees in front of their windows, masking their home from the spirited child. They placed fires on the outskirts of town during the long nights of the season, and for those six years it had been enough.
     It was not chance at work, when a blizzard had blown away Misa’s small pine branch from above her window. The girl was making herself ready for bed and opened the window for a small breeze of air now that the storm had gone. She climbed into her bed and pushed her legs under the thickness of five woolly blankets that would keep her warm at night. Before she lady down a soft breath of air movement caught her attention and made her look down. On the floor in the corner of her room, between her scattered toys sat a small boy, about her age, in a torn white gown. He panted and scrambled to hide behind her wardrobe, away from the gap of the window. Misa looked at the gap, he couldn’t possibly have entered without moving the window, and that would have made a sound!
     “Who are you?” she asked in a whisper, knowing instinctively her parents should not hear her. The boy looked at her suspiciously, as he hid from the opening of the night. He looked peculiar, she thought. He had silver hair and eyebrows, and the color of his eyes was golden. His skin was translucent and she thought she could nearly see through him if she peered at him through half-closed eyes.
     “Can you hide me, please? I beg you, please hide me.” Because he looked very worried, Misa asked:
     “Hide you from what? Are you scared of something outside?”
     The boy nodded and she got out of bed, paced slowly towards the window. She felt scared somehow as she approached it; but when she saw the familiar view of their garden outside, covered in snow and decorated with a few paw-prints here and there, she no-longer felt any fear and she closed the window with a creak and a bump.
     “Thank you,” said the boy and he abandoned his hiding spot behind the wardrobe. He looked much more solid now, she saw.
     “My name is Misa,” she said politely, but what she really wanted was to know who he was. The boy sat beneath the window, as if he was still hiding and smiled at her.
     “I know. Thanks for letting me in.” He smiled, though a little shyly.
     “Are you from another village?” she asked, though judging by the thin robe he wore and his bare feet, this seemed impossible to her.
     “No, just from outside. That’s where I live.”
     “But you can’t live outside, it’s too cold!” Misa protested. The boy simply nodded and confused her even more.
     “I want to play. Do you want to play with me?” asked the strange boy, and he picked up her toys and began to play. With a skeptical look, clearly inherited from her mother, she regarded him, but then joined in. He seemed very nice, she thought, and his laughter was sweet. When she thought he wasn’t looking, she marveled at his silver hair and the white quality of his skin. It looked like he was frozen.
     They played for a while until he suddenly looked up to the window and announced, “I must go now. Will you leave the window open tomorrow?” The girl thought for a moment. She didn’t have anyone her age to play with, so she nodded eventually.  

The next evening he came again, in the evening, right as she was making ready for bed. He sat on the floor timidly until she sat down next to him and they quietly played. They made certain Misa’s parents wouldn’t hear them. If they had known, they would have been very worried indeed. At the end of that dark evening, with the moon rising high into the star filled sky, he asked once more, “Will you let me come tomorrow too?” and she nodded.
    That third evening he came again, and they played as children do. They talked as if they had known each other for years and they joked.
     “Maybe I can show you my home some time,” said the snowy child. “And maybe I can show you my friend in the other town too. He is a boy I also play with sometimes when it is really cold.” He smiled at her so vibrantly she instantly wanted to meet the other boy too. But before she could ask the other boy’s name, there was a noise behind her.
    Her father stood in the door opening and stared in horror at the two of them playing. In an instant, the silver haired boy was leaning against the window, trying to scratch or push himself outside, but he could not find the handle. Misa’s father called his wife’s name.
     “Father, it’s okay!” Misa tried to explain, but he did not hear her. She looked at the boy and saw panic in his eyes. “Calm down, it’s only my father,” she said, but he shook his head and whimpered. His eyes frightened her. As if she lost control over her hands, she reached up and opened the window for him, before she had even realized it. If that wasn’t strange enough, as soon as the window was opened, the snowy child fell through the wall and the window, as if gliding through it, and within seconds he was gone from sight. All she saw was a white polecat dashing under the bushes.

That night Misa could not sleep. She stared at her ceiling debating the past night’s events. How shocked the boy had looked upon her father’s yell, how mad her dad had been when he saw them together. Outside that boy was alone in the cold and even though she knew he was not natural, she wanted to see him again.
     “You may never see him again,” said her mother during breakfast, making herself very clear. “The reason for this is this child is unsafe! I don’t want you anywhere near him.” Misa complained, they had only played and her mother looked sick and upset. She sat down in front of her daughter and looked at her with clear thought. “I’ll tell you about this snowy child, if you promise me never to open your window to him again.”
     Misa found it hard to agree, but she did as she had to and nodded her head. Her mother told her about the eerie sounds in the pitch-dark knights of winter’s summit. She told her daughter of children being swept away into the snow and never found again. This was a monster, she reassured her daughter, and it was best if he soon went away. Misa was frightened now. Her father smiled and comforted her that the fresh twig of pine, hanging from the top of her window frame once more, would keep her safe. He gave her a good night kiss and closed her door so she could go to sleep. That night, the boy didn’t come.
     The evening after, Misa crawled out of bed to her window. She missed the boy already. Staring out at the moon and the clouds, she secretly wished him to be there. But even in the pale light outside, there was no trace of any snowy child. Only large barn owl sat near her window outside, on a thick knotted branch. It turned its big round eyes toward her and scared her straight back into bed. Nothing outside was friendly anymore.

Quite sullen and moping the girl seemed to have lost all her joy in daily activities. Her mother was worried and gave her a hug, but she turned away.
     “Mother, how can a child live alone in the cold like that boy?” she demanded.
     “Well, Misa darling, the truth is quite simple; the child is not really a boy.” When her daughter seemed offended, she decided to slightly bend the truth. “What we do is make a fire, at the edge of the town. That should keep him warm. Some food he may take, if he’s hungry enough and this way, we’ve been told, he’ll be fine.”
     Things became clearer for the six-year-old girl and she plotted her plan to perfection. That night she would meet him and go forward to greet him with the warmth she had to offer. Nobody ought to be cold in these days of darkness. Everything had become clear to her now.

Despite her parents’ warnings, Misa went outside that night. It scared her to shivers, though she was packed up well, and she invited the darkness on the midwinter night. After the creak of a bush to her left, and some ice falling off a branch to her right, suddenly she saw him standing silently before her. The snowy child.
     She smiled at him and greeted him kindly, “I’m sorry about the new branch.” The boy shook his head and smiled back at her, saying how delighted he was that she came.
     “I have a gift for you,” said the boy all of a sudden.
     “So have I,” and she gave him a candle and a small box of lighting sticks. He stared at his gift for a moment and seemed quite moved. “I know what you are,” she explained.
     The boy lit the candle and put it on the snow-covered ground, he seemed delighted at once. He took her hand and showed her where he lived.

After that night she felt reborn and nothing could make her feel more warm. Confident and fulfilled Misa walked back to her parents’ house and entered. She took off her snow-covered boots and her jacket and walked into the main room.
     “Mother, father, I am home,” she announced.
     “Misa!” cried her parents together, and flew towards her to hug her and kiss her, “where have you been, o child? We searched for you for days!”
     “He showed me how to fly, I saw the village from above.” The girl explained with glee how he had shown her where he lived, and how he always had to run away from those who hunted him. How he only wanted to play every now and again. “The nights are too long and he’s glad for the fires. The food he cannot eat, but he likes to see you put it there.” Her parents were puzzled and above all quite worried, she felt very cold to the touch. But the girl shook her head, and told them to meet with him.
     “But my dear,” said her father, “You were gone for a week.”
     This surprised her, but she smiled innocently, “It seemed like just one night to me.”
     “But my love,” said her mother, “We thought you were gone forever!”
     “The snowy child kept me safe, dear mother, please don’t worry no more. I know what he is and I know what he wants. Please help me tell all the people.”
     And so they told all the people in the village, and the villages surrounding their town about the snowy child. A child who could turn into a boy or a girl, or some of winter’s animals. A child who was alone in the darkest of days. All it wanted was someone to play with, or to celebrate the winter with. So the towns gathered their firewood and made a great bonfire in honor of the snowy child. They still offered food, but less of it. In stead of walking away from their fires, they would stay and dance around them and celebrate until deep into the nightly hours, until all the talk of darkness was forgotten. In stead of placing food, they placed candles along the way for the snowy child to find some light.
     This story traveled throughout the world. This is why in every town in the coldest, darkest days of the year, there will be a gathering and a great fire. People will dance and talk until one of the snowy child’s forms is spotted. If it was seen, then the following spring would be plentiful. If a baby’s cry was heard, then the following seasons would be blessed with many births. Those who still chased the child brought bad luck to the villages they lived at. This is the tale of the snowy child.

And Misa? She married the boy from the nearby village, and from time to time they would still walk outside in the winter and spend their night flying over their village, in search of the snowy child or a soft cry of laughter in the dark.