What follows is an impromptu story I wrote. It is geared toward children and I may polish it up and turn it into a children’s book with illustrations which I may do myself. I happen to have an artistic side I have yet to show so pictures may be doable. Please let me know what you think. This is my first foray into fiction on either one of my blogs and I would really appreciate some honest feedback. Thanks.
Mighty King Winter sits atop his imposing wrought iron throne surveying his frozen kingdom. He is as sure as he is able and he puckers up his frigid lips and blows a frigid gust of cold winter wind in every direction just to prove a point to no one in particular. He feels he will always be on top. This has been always been the way of it and this is the way that it will always be.
The days pass as they always do. Some days are cloudy, some are graced with a pale light that shines from afar. On some days when he is feeling especially ornery he creates a mighty blizzard that carpets the land with foot upon foot of glittering whiteness.
He is alone but this does not bother him. This is the way it has always been and he sees no reason why this won’t be the way it will always be. Most of the animals in the forest are in hibernation or sticking very close to their dens. Even the winter birds give the King of Winter a wide berth.
Everyday the king surveys his kingdom. He is proud of the work he does and he sees no reason why it should not continue and as the days pass his confidence grows.
The season proceeds as is its fashion and bit by bit the mighty king grows tired. It wouldn’t hurt to take a small snooze he says out loud to no one in particular and settles into his throne for a shortish snooze.
Little by little The king’s naps become more frequent. On one particularly brilliant day during an especially longish nap, a young girl creeps in ever so softly. She is called Spring and she is as lovely as she is young. She tiptoespast the sleeping king. With every step the earth under her tender feet warms just a smidgen. The delicate white snowdrop and shocks of yellow Crocus peek their heads out of the frozen ground as she walks past.
All of a sudden, the king spies the young girl. He puckers up his frigid lips and blows a frigid gust of cold wind in her direction freezing everything it touches. She is frightened and scampers off with a quickness.
But the next day she returns; a little bit older and a little bit bolder. She brings with her the rays of the yellow sun. It sparkles and shines on the frozen grass warming it just a scant degree. The creatures of the forest can feel this and start to waken. Just as before, the king wakes up and spies the young girl. Again he puckers up his frigid lips and blows a frigid gust of cold winter wind in her direction and again she is scared off, but this time she scampers off not as quickly as before.
The next day comes as it always does and the king finds himself a bit more tired than the day before. All this blowing tires him out. And his naps grow longer and longer. The days pass as they tend to do and the kings naps grow longer and longer all the while, the young girl grows a little bit older and a little bit bolder and her warming presence makes the forest a little less colder. Just as before her visits are always thwarted upon the wakening of the king.
On one particularly bright day the young girl returns as has become her custom. She waves her porcelain hand and beneath it the earth warms to a particularly warm toastiness. The buds on the trees appear and the sky turns a deep lucid blue.
The king is roused by the warming and turns to see the young girl once again and again he puckers up his frigid lips to blow a frigid gust of cold winter wind in her direction. This time he can only muster a smallish breeze and immediately falls back to his slumber.
The young girl notices, she smiles an impish smile and this time she stays even longer in the forest, playing with the animals that have gathered around her. She is delighted in their antics and laughs a sweet girlish guffaw that sounds like a melody of song. The daffodils hear her laughter and pop their heads out of the ground. The king awakes from his repose if only for a moment, it is then he remembers a long hidden memory buried deep in his mind, he realises that for now his time has passed and now it is time for Little Miss Spring to take his place. Thistime Mighty King Winter will relent. He smiles a knowing smile and drifts back into an even deeper sleep until it is his time again.