The Snowman who Saved Spring

It was remarkable to suddenly exist.

Of course, it hadn’t happened in a moment. I’d had a gradual realisation of suddenly being. Of being formed. The full realisation of the enormity of existing didn’t sink in until my eyes were added, and I could properly take in the world around me and understand – before that point it had all been abstract. I’d felt myself being moulded, but with no reference points it was difficult to comprehend what I was being made into.

After that, I could look down at myself. My fluffy white body, with short stumpy legs. I stretched out my arms, which were brown and thin. One hand had four fingers, whilst the other only had three. My nose was prominent and, whichever way I looked, I could always see it – orange and sticking out. I could feel a hat on my head, and I had a scarf around my neck though, in truth, I didn’t really have a neck – my head was attached directly to my body.

There was a young child sitting in the snow in front of me, looking at me. Her mouth and eyes were wide open. It was hard to make out much about her – she was so wrapped up in a big coat, scarf, hat, gloves, that I really couldn’t make out much of her at all. Now I know that she had just turned eight years old and had blonde hair that went to halfway down her back. She was neither tall nor short for her age – just about average. She had a very cute smile that made you smile just to see it, and a manner that made you want to make her laugh.

“You can move!” she said, still not having moved out of the snow.

The accusation hit me hard. Was I not supposed to move? Surely, I wasn’t simply supposed to stand there all day? What would be the point of being, if you could only be in one place?

“Yes,” I replied after a moment. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. I just haven’t seen a snowman move before, so I didn’t know you could.”

I nodded to her, trying to be reassuring. She was the only person I had met – I didn’t want to scare her off.

“Did you build me?” I asked, wanting to make conversation but not really knowing what about.

She nodded to me, her face widening with her smile. “Yes,” she said.

Before I could continue any of my sparkling banter, another voice called from out of sight. “Bethany – come in for dinner!” it said.

“That’s my mum,” said the young girl, who I now knew was named Bethany. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s the holidays, so I don’t need to go to school.”

“Goodbye, Bethany,” I said, waving my four fingered hand at her. “See you tomorrow.”

She laughed and waved back. I wasn’t sure what was funny, but it was good to hear the laugh. She ran through the snow, leaving boot prints behind her and I settled in to wait, though I wasn’t sure for what. However, now that Bethany had gone, it didn’t seem like there was much of anything else to do, and so I continued to wait.

Every so often, I could hear a bell, and every time it rang, it did so for a little longer. It had just rung twelve times when I saw something new. Above me, flying through the sky, I saw another snowman, much like myself (though this one hadn’t been given a scarf, and his hands only had two fingers each). I wondered if I could fly too, as it would be nice to meet another snowman and to talk. And, as I considered it, I found myself floating through the air as well. It was as instinctive to me as standing had been.

Once I was floating high enough to speak to the other snowman, I spoke: “Hello. Where are we going?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw some others go overhead, so I’m following.” Once he pointed them out and I looked in front of us, I could see the others. There were three of them. I wondered if they knew where they were going, or if they, in turn, were following more snowmen. Our speed seemed to be unchanging, so I couldn’t catch up to them to ask, but we also didn’t need to worry about them getting too great a lead.

It seemed that we were flying for a long time, but dawn had not yet come when we landed. I had no idea how far we had travelled, or where we now were, but I felt a kind of homing instinct trying to pull me back to the garden where I had been built. That was a worry for another time though, as here there were hundreds, if not thousands of snowmen.

Each of us was different, one way or another. Some were taller than others, and some were broader. Combinations of limbs varied, with some having branches like myself and others arms moulded from the snow, much like their bodies. Placement of eyes, clothing, buttons and what constituted a nose – all of these things combined to make each snowman unique.

One climbed up onto a tree stump and raised his wooden arms – he had gloves on the end of them, rather than relying on the branches for his fingers – and all of the others turned to look at him.

“Fellow snowmen,” he said, his voice deep and booming. “Welcome. Some of you may be wondering why you are here, whilst others simply have some instinctive memory. Well – either way, I’m here to explain what you can expect.” Everybody had silenced themselves to listen to him.

“We will have two or three days of delight. The air will be chill, and fresh snow will fall. Children will play with us and we will bring joy to the world. Sadly, this will not last and, once that time has passed, we will melt away. For some of us, our brief lives will be remembered and, next time there is a snowfall, we may be born again. For many of us, this may be the last time.

“Over the years that we have gathered here, a plan has been formed to end this cycle, and it has been passed down, memory to memory, snowman to snowman. We are now ready to enact it.”

That made me pay attention. I’d been listening, but only with half a mind whilst I looked around and took in the differences between the various snowmen, but my focus was now completely on Gloves. I had only just started to enjoy life, to appreciate existence – the idea of having it torn away after only a couple of days was… I hadn’t the words to describe the feeling. A part of me wanted to leave immediately, to ensure I was back for morning when Bethany would be out and wanting to play. Another part longed to hear what the plan was – how could we stop this?

The others around had clearly felt something similar – the noise had increased around the area, and many snowmen were speaking to each other in hushed tones, but enough of them that it was difficult to hear Gloves. After a few moments, Gloves raised his arms again, and the crowd quietened.

“The problem, my friends,” Gloves continued once he had quiet, “is the spring. We are creatures of the winter and even in the depths of our own season, the spring is trying to break through and bring her warmth. It is Spring that forces us to melt, and Spring that we must stop.”

There was a great deal of nodding amongst the snowmen, and I found myself nodding along as well. It all sounded so simple. Except… how could we stop a season from coming?

“Right now, Spring slumbers,” Gloves continued. “She sleeps, which is why we can exist. When she stirs, the thaw will come. Tomorrow night, we will fly again, and travel to where she rests. Those of you who can, follow. We must give of ourselves, and the more of us that are present, the lesser the burden on each of us.

“For now, though, enjoy yourselves and get to know each other. If we are successful, we will be able to enjoy each other’s company for far longer.”

There was great cheering from all of the snowmen, myself included. It was strange though – we celebrated the solution to a problem that none of us had faced before, and yet Gloves’s speech had made it seem a very real threat. I resolved, over the course of the night, that I would fly with them the next night if I saw them.

We spent time, as instructed, talking and dancing, getting to know each other. Some of us spoke of the children that had built us, though few of us had been as silly as I had, in moving in front of the child – apparently, this was not the done thing. However, it was too late and what was done, was done. However, I spoke of what little I knew of Bethany, and looked forward to playing with her the next day. Many of the snowman I spoke to reacted with envy – whilst they might disagree with my actions, they clearly wanted what I had. Some simply grumbled about my foolishness.

In the dim light of the pre-dawn, we made our goodbyes and flew into the air again. I could feel where my garden was and, as I flew back to it, I realised that I could feel the meeting site too and that, if I wanted to, I would be able to find my way back there. I wondered why some of the snowmen already knew such, in order to guide others, but there were no answers to be found in my thoughts, and so I dropped the question.

It was still dark when I returned to my garden and so I carefully returned to my place and waited. I had resolved that I would try not to reveal that I could move and speak to anybody except Bethany – I would tell her that it must be our secret.

The sun had only just risen, and more snow had started to fall, when Bethany came out again. As on the previous day, she was wrapped up well against the cold, in a scarf that looked very similar to my own. She ran out, a large smile on her face and came directly towards me.

“Good morning!” she shouted as she reached me. I’d turned, so that I would be able to see the door that she had come from, and so be able to be sure she was alone. I trusted that her mother wouldn’t have been paying enough attention to notice which way the snowman in her garden was facing.

“Good morning, Bethany,” I replied. I was sure to speak quietly – whilst I was sure that a noisy child would be largely ignored by those inside, even if seemingly talking to her snowman, any reply would be met with suspicion. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Can we play?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I can talk to you, but if I move too much, people might notice me.”

She frowned and wrinkled her head. “Would that be bad?”

I nodded. “I think so. If people knew that I could move and talk, they might want to break me.”

She thought about this for several moments before she finally gave a nod that had a hint of finality to it. “You’re right,” she said. “People might.”

“What would you like to play?” I asked.

“Well…” she answered, wrinkling her head again. “If you can’t move… I could throw snowballs at you!”

I couldn’t help but laugh but stopped quickly. “Go ahead, if you like. I don’t mind – I like the cold.”

And that was how we spent the morning. In truth, she wasn’t a very good shot, but she was so delighted with herself, jumping and laughing, when she did manage to hit me, that there was joy to it. Watching how much Bethany enjoyed playing with me just made my memories of the previous night, of Gloves’s words more real. He had been right – how could we let this end after a couple of days.

Before she went in for her lunch, she stopped and asked me what my name was. I had to confess to her that I didn’t really have one.

Again, her face scrunched up in that way that I’d learned meant that she was thinking hard. “I’ll call you Rudy,” she finally said and, that important job done, she turned and went back into her house.

I stood and stared at her back as she went. I didn’t understand why, but as soon as she had given me the name, I felt more… solid. I couldn’t explain it – I was no different, but now… now I had a name. I wasn’t just a snowman with a hat, and a scarf, and seven fingers. I was Rudy.

The bell had rung once before Bethany came out again, and again we played. This time she chose “eye spy” – it was another game that we could play without me needing to move. At one point, she asked what I had done overnight.

“Did you get bored, waiting for me?”

I shook my head with a smile. “No, I went to talk to the other snowmen and play with them.” She didn’t ask for more detail – just accepted that this was obviously a thing that I would have done.

“Will you do the same tonight?”

“Sort of, Bethany. I’ll meet the other snowmen, but we have something important to do tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” I told her. “Can you keep a secret?”

She nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m the best secret-keeper. I haven’t told anybody about you.”

I nodded to her, trying to make my coal eyes look serious.

“Well, I guess I can trust you,” I said. “We’re going to go and make it so the snowmen never melt!”

She jumped up, clapping her hands. “Wow!” she said. “How are you going to do that?”

“Well – the reason we melt is that Spring wakes up from her nap and makes it a bit warmer. So, we’re going to make sure she doesn’t wake up.”

At this, Bethany gave me a sceptical look, one eye wide and the other narrowed. “Don’t be silly,” she said with a tone of reproach. “You can’t do that.”

I nodded to her. “We can. One of the other snowmen has a plan.”

She sat and leaned against me, her back to my leg. “Would that mean that it never becomes spring, and is always winter?”

I nodded, then realised she couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said simply.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she replied.

“But it would mean that I could always play with you,” I said.

“I know,” she said quietly. “But we need spring. I learned that in school. If we don’t have spring, then flowers won’t grow, and lambs won’t be born, and it will never become Christmas again. We read a story about a wicked witch who made it always winter, and never Christmas.”

I paused. I had to admit, that that didn’t sound too good.

“If we don’t, then I’ll be gone soon…” I spoke quietly, hoping against hope that she would say that it was worth that great cost, to be able to play with me forever.

“I know,” she said. “And that’s sad. But… that’s why you’re special too.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Well… if you were here all the time, you wouldn’t be special. I want to play with you now because it doesn’t snow enough for snowmen very often.”

We fell into silence and I took a chance, bending to wrap my wooden arms around her.

“Don’t worry, Bethany,” I said. “I won’t let it happen. I’ll stop them from doing anything to Spring.”

She shifted slightly and hugged me back. “I’ll miss you, Rudy,” she said, and as she did, that feeling of being more solid, more real, struck me again.

“I’ll miss you too, Bethany.”

It seemed that, to her, the crisis had been averted. I’d said I would stop it, and so I would – simple as that. She cheered up and we continued to play, and as we played she told me more about the wonders of spring, until she had to go in for the evening. She gave me a wave, and I wondered when the thaw would come. Would I see her the next day? I had to stop the plan of the other snowmen – I had promised.

I watched the sky earnestly, waiting to see other snowmen. I didn’t know where Spring slumbered, so I had to rely on the others to guide me. The clock struck eleven times before I saw them again and I took to the air to follow them. A different direction this time – I could feel both my garden and the old meeting place getting farther and farther away.

As we flew, I looked through the skies and saw that hundreds of us had joined this flight. Of course, none of the others would have spoken to their children as I had. None of the others would understand why the spring must come, all of those wonderful things that Bethany had told me about. I would be truly alone amongst them all.

As I saw the others start to descend, I did the same and we walked into a cave. Descending into the ground, we came to a cavern and there, lying on a bed of leaves, with a blanket of moss, was a young girl. She was warmed by a fire in a heath, which the snowmen kept their distance from. Except for Gloves. He led this group, and he went immediately to that fire, and tore a handful of snow from his chest, dropping it onto the flames and creating steam. A few others, seeing his example, did the same, and soon the fire was gone.

The cavern became notably cooler with the lack of the fire, but not enough for Gloves. He and another snowman moved her mossy blanket, and I was struck by how much this young girl reminded me of Bethany. The other snowmen, at Gloves’s direction, started to scoop handfuls of snow from themselves and bury her in them, but I couldn’t join them. I couldn’t break my promise to Bethany. But I also couldn’t see how to stop them.

Gloves noticed me and my lack of engagement with the activity. He walked over. “What’s wrong, Scarf?” he asked. Suddenly, the scarf that I had been so proud of seemed a very little thing when he used it to name me. The previous night, when other snowmen had done the same, it had been a thing to take pride in – that I had one when other did not. But now I had a name.

“Rudy,” I said quietly.

“What?” said Gloves.

“My name is Rudy,” I replied. “Not Scarf. Not Seven-Fingers. Rudy.” When I told him my own name, I had the same feeling as when Bethany had first given it to me. I liked my name and what it meant to me. It was me.

“Fine,” Gloves responded. “Rudy, whatever. Is there a problem?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No problem.”

“So, why aren’t you giving of yourself? Everybody else is. You are being selfish, Rudy.”

I supposed that, from his perspective, I was. I approached Spring as she slept, now shivering from the mass of snow upon her. I scooped out some of myself and placed it on her as well. Gloves gave a nod and when everybody had done so, he gathered us all together again.

“It is done,” he said, triumphantly with his arms raised. “Spring will now sleep forever. The thaw will not come, and we will be eternal.”

There was a cheer from the other snowmen. I raised my arms to blend in but couldn’t bring myself to join the chorus.

“Let us return, and report to our fellows what we have done.” And, with those words, Gloves took to the air, and I could feel that he was heading to the meeting place. I had no desire to go with them and hoped that I would be unnoticed.

Once I was alone, I returned to the cave and pushed the snow from Spring. It was a long job – she was heavily covered – and then I returned her blanket, but it did not help. I carefully removed my scarf and wrapped it around her, but it did not help. She still shivered; the cold having seeped into her. It would take more than I could do to warm her again. I needed to restart the fire, but I didn’t know how.

And there was only one person that I could ask.

I left the cave again, hoping that Spring would be alright without her fire. Gloves had said that she would only sleep in the cold, but I had little faith that Gloves cared either way as long as he could continue to be. I took to the air and flew to my garden and approached the house.

I didn’t know which window was Bethany’s bedroom.

I tried the back door, where I had seen her emerge from and disappear to. It opened, and I was met with the warmth of inside. It was deeply uncomfortable, and I felt wet. I looked down and saw that I was dripping onto the floor. Was this what it felt like to melt?

I moved quickly through the kitchen, leaving puddles behind me. I checked each room I came to, moving quietly, but leaving tracks that any would see. I moved up the stairs and continued to try rooms. Finally, I found the one where Bethany lay asleep and I moved over to her and, being careful not to lean over her and to drip on her, I reached out with one wooden hand and pushed her awake.

Her eyes opened. She rubbed them. She looked at me. They widened.

Before she could say anything, I spoke: “Bethany – I need your help.”

She nodded and pushed back her blankets, quickly awake. “What do you need?” she whispered.

“I need to make a fire.”

She didn’t ask why. She pulled on slippers and a dressing gown and crept downstairs with me. When she saw the puddles that I had left behind me, she pushed me outdoors again, where it was refreshingly cool. However, I felt… diminished. I packed up snow from the ground, trying to add to myself, but it simply fell away, refusing to become a part of me.

Soon, Bethany joined me with a bag of things. I didn’t ask, and she didn’t show me – I trusted that she had what would be needed. She’d added a big coat over her dressing gown and had swapped her slippers for wellington boots.

“Alright, Rudy,” she said, smiling at me. “Where do you need the fire?”

“Hold my hand,” I told her, and she did. I lifted into the air and, somehow, she came with me. I flew us back to Spring’s cave and led Bethany in. She didn’t seem at all surprised by the flight, but she did have a large grin on her face.

“This is Spring,” I said to her when we reached the cavern. The young girl was still shivering, in spite of what I’d tried to do.

“She has your scarf,” said Bethany as she came in and looked at the girl.

“I was trying to warm her up,” I said. “Can you make the fire here?” I pointed to the damp hearth.

Bethany nodded. “My dad says that this will light anything.” She pulled a bottle out of her bag and poured some of the contents over the wet wood in the fire. She followed this with bits of paper and some white blocks of… something.

“Step back,” she said to me. “I don’t really know how much of this to use, and it might be too much.”

I did as she had advised, and Bethany took a small piece of wood out of a box and moved it quickly against the side of the box. Once, twice, three times. On the third movement, it lit, and a small flame could be seen. Slowly and carefully, Bethany moved the tiny flame to the fire that she had prepared and moved them together.

As they touched, there was a loud whoomph sound and fire climbed from the hearth. I felt the heat of it even from where I was standing and felt myself begin to drip again. I looked over to Spring – her shivering had stopped. Fleeing the fire, we moved outside again and sat in the snow. It was good to be in the cool again, and Bethany was smiling too, no doubt enjoying her adventure.

We stayed there for some time, though I don’t know how long. We were enjoying each other’s company, and we played properly, without concern for who might see me. We ran, and we laughed, knowing that our time was short.

“What have you done, Rudy?”

The voice came whilst I was rolling around in the snow with Bethany. I sat up and saw that Gloves was staring at me. I climbed to my feet, trying to keep Bethany behind me.

“What have you done, Rudy?”

He asked the question again, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

“Not only have you revealed yourself to a child, but you’ve reversed what we did here tonight, didn’t you?”

I nodded as he approached.

“I suppose that I will have to set it right then,” Gloves said, taking me by the hand and pulling me into the cave again, ignoring Bethany who was sitting in the snow. “This time, I’ll just use your snow to bury her – I’m not asking the others to sacrifice again.”

He was stronger than me – perhaps I had lost too much in my melting – and he could easily drag me behind him.

“Hey! Let Rudy go!” Bethany’s voice carried from behind us.

Gloves laughed at her and turned for a moment, swiping out at her with his gloved hand. He was stronger even than she, and she left her feet, hitting the cavern wall. She slumped to the ground.

And with that, I found my strength. I pulled myself out of Gloves’s grip, not caring for how much bigger than me, or how much stronger than me he might be. I ran for Spring’s chamber and felt the oppressive heat again. Spring was starting to move – stirring under had moss blanket. Bethany had overdone it, but now that fact would be our salvation.

I picked up a branch from the fire, feeling the heat of it diminish me, even as I moved back towards Gloves who was just entering the chamber. I swung the fire at him and saw that he started to glow in the light of it as well – that tell-tale sheen that showed that he was melting too.

He tried to stay back, but there wasn’t room to move in the rocky passageway. I kept coming, not caring for the heat, not caring for what it was doing to me. Bethany was hurt, and I was going to stop him. I pushed him back against the wall and held the burning wood close to us both. He tried to reach for it, tried to smother the fire with his gloved hand. It didn’t work – whatever Bethany had put the wood was keeping it from going out.

And, as we stood there, staring at each other, we both melted away.

I don’t know how long it was before I was again. I felt that same feeling of being constructed and then, when my eyes were added, of suddenly knowing. A voice spoke to me as soon as I was completed. “Hello again, Rudy.”

It was Bethany.

And, beside her, stood Spring.

I fussed over Bethany, making sure she was ok from the fight. I looked round for Gloves, but the parts of him that weren’t snow were lying on the ground besides the cave entrance, including his signature gloves. I raised my own hands, and found I had my scarf back.

Spring didn’t say anything to me, though Bethany told me that the two of them had talked whilst I was melted. Bethany never told me what they had said though – it had to be a secret and, as she had told me, she was the best secret-keeper. I flew her home, waving goodbye to Spring, and knowing that I would melt again when we returned to the garden. When the sun came up in the morning, it would be warmer, and would bring the thaw with it.

But I did get her home before dawn came, and she snook back into her bedroom. As she turned away, she simply said, “See you next time, Rudy.”

I didn’t understand, but I waved to her.

And I watched the sun rise, and I felt it’s warmth. It doesn’t hurt to melt, thankfully. It’s actually kind of a nice feeling. Though I did feel that I was going to miss Bethany.

It didn’t feel like any time at all before I was existing again. Being built. Having my eyes added. Those same words. “Hello again, Rudy.”

Bethany was bigger then – a year had passed. Spring had been early the previous year, and there hadn’t been another snowfall. I had my same arms and hands, the same seven fingers. I had my hat and, again, my scarf. Most importantly, I had my name.

And so, we spent what time together we had, and we both felt that it was special because it so short. And our time came to an end. And the next time there was snow, she would build me again, with the same branches that she saved, and the same hat, and the same scarf, and the same words – “Hello again, Rudy.”

And each year, we would meet again – almost for the first time, but with memories of the last times. And she always had so much to tell me. I spent my nights at the snowman meetings and was soon the most knowledgeable there. My memories of previous times were stronger than any those held by any other, and whilst I tried to share the secret of names with them, it never worked as well, as their children lost interest after a few years. I stopped the snowmen from repeating what Gloves had tried, explaining that it was our ethereal nature that made our relationship with the children so joyous.

Eventually, we reached the point where Bethany didn’t want to play anymore – and so we just talked. One year she asked if he could share our secret with a special friend – she was in her twenties by then. Of course, I said yes, and the next day she brought Steven to see me. As you’d expect, he was surprised to see me.

The true joy though, was a few years after that, when Bethany built me, said my name, and there was a child. A young boy, named Carl, was there with Bethany and Steven.

And he wanted to play.