Friday, June 3, 2011

The Cold Country

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled over by a king who was a child.

The Child King was a little boy who giggled and laughed at things, like boys do. But his laughter often froze the hearts of those who heard it.

The kingdom he ruled was perpetually in winter. The snow never melted on the ground and piled up into walls, forcing the citizens to plow the snow day after day. Crops wouldn't grow, so to prevent themselves from starving, they made plots inside their homes and built up roaring fires near them, so the cold wouldn't seep in and kill what little harvest they could manage.

The Child King's castle was made itself of ice. If a person were to brave the castle walls, they would find ice statues littered around, made into various poses. If one were to examine these statues closely, they might even notice that they weren't statues at all.

Occasionally, the Child King would go skipping through the kingdom, passing door after door, until he came to a home seemingly at random. Then, he would knock on the door and start to sing:

               I'm not a grown-up, I'm not a crone, 
               I know you're in there all alone.
               I'll be your friend, the one and only,
              There's no more need to be lonely.

              Open up and then we'll play,
              We'll have fun, so with me stay.
              I'll be quick and you'll be clever,
             We'll be friends and cold forever.

The door always opens and someone (man, woman, child, it doesn't matter) steps out. They take the Child King's hand and he leads them back to his castle and throne room and they are never seen again.

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