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Henry

The Year I Became a Mythological Figure

February 15, 2015

I know this is possibly the most cliche way to start a story, but I knew this year was going to be different. However I didn't know if different meant good or bad. Or both. Let's go back to the beginning of the year: January first.

 

Who doesn't love New Years? Me. I hate parties, I hate people, and most of all I hate new. I don't like changes, I like constants. Change is unpredictable but constants are completely predictable. People change, so I don't like them. My house does not change, so it is safe and comforting.

So anyways, like every New Years Eve one of my (few) friends dragged me to one of the crazy* parties (*crazy as in dudes and gals trying to wrestle lions kind of crazy). The party is at some persons house I've never even met before and definitely did not want to meet ever if I actually had the choice, unluckily for me, I did not have such choice.

Of course my friend, Greg, has to show up late. Late means the party is in full swing. The party being in full swing means I can't make up an excuse to go home to avoid the people and their heinous acts of drinking, what they call dancing, and fighting. I can still remember the fresh smell of vomit and sweat when the white door opened to the apartment. It was a lot like going through the birth process in reverse.

I take up my post in the corner, like normal, while Greg goes around meeting up with old friends. I have plenty of time to be alone with my thoughts. They're mostly things like “Why am I here? Why did I listen to Greg? Why am I friends with Greg? Who's that chick? Oh look she's twerking, ew. Oh my god, what's with the shirtless people? Please people, do stay away from me.”

That last thought didn't come true. Greg brought up a girl who was fairly pretty in the facial region. She was a ginger, but despite the pale skin and freckles, her facial construction was relatively cute. However, as my eyes went down my body I found she was ripped AF and could likely split my head open with one pinky finger. Of course Greg wanted us to hook up.

Greg told me, “Jack, tonight you become a man.”

I rubbed my eyes. “No. None of that tonight. You tried that last year and the girl turned out to be an Neo-Nazi hell bent on killing everyone not Aryan. Does my hair look blonde to you?”

(Just to be clear, I do have blue eyes but my hair is a nice brown which most of my bullies liked to compare to... human excrement. Yeah, enjoy that mental image, readers.)

“No, but, buddy, that's not my fault,” Greg proceeded.

“Oh then who's fault is it?”

“Hitler's,” He replied nonchalantly.

“You can't blame everything on Hitler!” I screamed at him.

“Worked pretty well in history class.”

“Leave me be, Greg.”

“C'mon, dude, give Helga a chance,” He pleaded.

“Helga is glaring at me and looks like she is going to throw a brick at my head.”

I couldn't have been more right. She did just that and I blacked out. Where she had the brick and what her motives were I had no idea. It's as if a god was just trying to bridge my plot on wards to what would make this year different and change my life.

 

I awoke with a throbbing head, in an awkward position like sitting up, except my feet were on the wall and my back and head on the ground. They hadn't bothered to move me much (thanks, Greg). Pretty much everyone else was passed out is what I found out once I stood up.

I looked around for Greg but couldn't find him. Instead of waiting around for him to wake up I decided to walk home. This was a very bad idea and I know realize I had to be concussed from that brick that Helga nicely through at my head for unexplained reasons.

I decided to steer clear of the broken down elevator and took the stairs down to the lobby after leaving the hodgepodge of unconscious forms. The lobby was pretty decrepit and I went outside after pulling my hat and gloves on.

It was freezing out. I debated turning back but I pressed on for the nice 5 mile journey. I know this was stupid but my social anxiety and this tugging feeling in my gut combined to make me go forward.

About fifteen minutes into my walk my nose was dripping with, well, snot. The cold had seeped into my once warm leather jacket and my teeth were chattering. Of course, (just like in all good stories) the snow had to pick up. I pulled my jacket around me tighter as the gentle flurries turned into a harsh downpour of snow.

After 5 minutes of snowing, It was so bad I could hardly see my hand when it was right in front of my face. I didn't know which way was home, which way I had come from (which I really didn't want to go back to), or if I was still on the sidewalk. I was stuck in this blizzard.

I stumbled around blindly until the wind blew me over and I was buried in snow. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I passed out; this time from suffocation.

 

You will be happy to know (or maybe not so happy) that I did in fact wake up again. However, I did not wake up in the same place again; I was strapped to a metal table. I flexed my fingers and heard crackling like ice breaking under pressure. I did this with the rest of my body and it made the same crisp cracking noise. I sat up straight and was amazed at the warmth of the table; it must have been heated! I hopped down from the table and felt the same warmth from the tiles.

“Man, they never heat this place,” A voice from down the hall called.

“I know, it's like a freezer in winter,” Said a second.

They must've been crazy! I was so warm I thought I could be sweating two gallons!- except... I wasn't sweating at all.

A man and a woman in lab coats walked into the room and froze. Their faces wore a mixture of fear and surprise.

I managed a wave.

“You were dead!” The woman cried.

“Um, no,” I croaked. I cleared my throat before continuing. “I'm very much alive.”

“No, you can't be, you're pulse stopped,” The man told me.

“Well, as you can see, I'm alive.”

“But your skin is blue!”

I looked down. He was right, my skin wasn't the pale color it became in winter; it was a dark blue, one that made me feel cold. “What the-”

And without knowing what to do, I bolted leaving the people in the lab coats behind. I ran through the maze of hallways. I felt as if an internal compass was guiding me outside and I followed it.

The compass turned out to be right and I broke outside into the refreshing perfect air. Except it shouldn't have been perfect- their was snow everywhere. I looked into one of the windows on the building I had just broken out of. Not only was my skin blue, but my hair was gray now (at least no one would compare it to inappropriate things) and icicles hung from it. How was I alive? How was this happening?

I took a deep breath and walked away with my own thoughts. I decided to run to a nearby forest to be alone with my thoughts, only after stealing new clothes off of an unsuspecting biker (hope he's OK, honestly). In doing so I found knew strength. I realized the cold was my element.

In the forest I sat on a stump and sat for a long time about my situation. After a lot of pointless conjectures I found a link. Have you ever heard the story of Jack Frost? I have, and I loved it as a child as that was my name. After realizing that out here I felt whole, instead of back with society, I decided I'd stay in the cold and become the mythological figure Jack Frost. It was a stupid idea. But, hey it worked. At least until spring and I had to move around.

Next time you're snowball hits someone in the face, thank me. I'm the one guiding it.

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  • February 15, 2015 - 10:04am (Now Viewing)

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