Alexandra Austen, Year 12
Venus’s star shone bright in the navy morning sky. Yulia was already up, the previous day’s activities had tired her out so much that she fell right asleep, finally giving her a good night’s rest. She went outside to check on her precious statue, only to be shocked by its disappearance. She stood there dumbfounded, wondering what in the world could have destroyed the sculpture without a trace. Lost in her thoughts, Yulia neglected to notice the Snow Maiden sitting silently on her porch.
Anxiety brewed in the Snow Maiden’s chest as she gathered the courage to speak to the older lady standing in front of her. She had barely uttered a gentle hello before she was cut off by Yulia shrieking. The older woman was clearly frenzied, panic rose in the Snow Maiden’s chest as she began to suspect that she had done something terribly wrong.
Yulia was at a loss for words. This girl sitting on the porch looked identical to her sculpture; the Maiden’s features were too well-defined, her eyes were a vivid almond brown, and her lips were redder than blood, but the most unnerving part about her was her colorless snowy white skin. Yulia blinked many times in attempts to clear her vision of this ghostly girl sitting before her. Of course this didn’t work, and the girl remained on the porch in front of her. Finally, Yulia spoke. She asked the Maiden if she had a name, what she was doing here, and if her parents knew where she was. The Snow Maiden looked up cluelessly; it was clear that at least half of what Yulia had said made absolutely no sense to the poor girl.
The Snow Maiden took a moment to think, but she didn’t have a name, nor did she have parents. All she knew was that the fierce Father Frost would be back to come get her. As she informed Yulia of this, the older woman began to laugh. Stories of Father Frost were common in the village, all the children knew of him; if something unusual were to happen during winter all the children would always blame Father Frost for causing it. The maiden wasn’t a child though, she had to have been 18 at least, so the whole story was frankly ridiculous.
The Snow Maiden giggled at Yulia’s booming laughter, she asked what was funny hoping to get a kick out of it too. Yulia raised a suspicious eyebrow before the realization struck, her jaw went slack. This girl was not human. She couldn’t be. Her appearance and story said it all; this girl had to be Father Frost’s daughter.
Yulia ushered the Maiden inside while looking rather pale from the overwhelming realization. She wandered into the dining room, making space for the both of them on the broad pine-wood dining table. As the maiden sat down, Yulia began her interrogation. The plethora of questions came out all at once, flooding the maiden until she was drowning. She sputtered as she tried to answer the questions only to realize she hadn’t a clue what to say. How old was she? Where did she come from? What was her name?
