(FAN FICTION)
FROSTY: A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS
RACHEL RODMAN
FROSTY: A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS
RACHEL RODMAN
Frosty the Gingerbread Man
“You can't catch me!” cried Frosty, nimble as a snowflake. “So many have tried!”
But the clever fox simply smiled, licked his lips, and flicked the “On” switch on his portable hairdryer.
Frostus, the Son of Man
A crown of thorns pierced His magic hat; the broomstick crucifix, too, on which He had been impaled was pitilessly stiff.
"Don't you cry,” He told the children, managing a weak smile. He gestured to Heaven, where His Father lived, and where His own body, once melted, would be transfigured to create spring rain.
“I'll be back again some day.”
Frost Kent, aka Superman
His cape, behind him, was a ripple of red, topped by an “S” stitched in yellow buttons.
“I have only one vulnerability,” he confessed to Lois, as he lifted her mittened hand to the irregular semi-circle of pebbles that composed his lips.
“Heat.”
Frostiet Tubman
She led them bravely, Thumpity, thump, thump; Thumpity, thump, thump, past dogs and bounty hunters, Thumpity, thump, thump; Thumpity, thump, thump, through hunger and heat, to the extreme north, where it was frozen year-round, and a snowman could be truly free.
Frosty the Trojan #1
There must have been some magic in that old arrow that he found. For when Frosty set it to his bow it sped away, quick as thought, and penetrated the heel of the fleet-footed Achilles.
And the great warrior fell.
Frosty the Trojan #2
High in the tower, in a locked bedroom, Frosty kept his stolen bride. She was Troy's great prize, but also its bane--the curse, that would eventually destroy the city, and reduce its topless towers to water.
Helen, dear Helen, the warmest woman in the world.
Frosty, The Last Man on Earth
“I'm still not interested,” she said coldly. And then she turned away, into the lonely white, leaving the engagement button untouched in his wooden palm.
Frosty the Pilsbury Dough Man
“Hmm-hmm!” giggled Frosty, doubling over, as the children's mittened fingers sculpted the snow that would compose his stomach.
“Hmm-hmm!”
Frosty the Cave Man
For a thousand years, he had followed the receding glacier, hunting mammoths and aurochs its shadow. Until, after an atypically violent summer, what lay before him was only a roaring river--the glacier unreachable beyond it.
And Frosty's snow-sculpted brain, topped with its thick brow ridges, could conceive of no way forward.
So he sank down, at last, the last of his people, and his broomstick spear rattled against bare rock.
Frosty the Eggman
Frosty is the walrus, and his whiskers are broom bristles. And his eyes, like those of a dead dog, are made of coal.
See how he runs, like a pig from a gun, singing, “Catch me if you can.”
Thumpity, thump thump; he's been a naughty boy.
Thumpity, thump thump; he's let his knickers down.
Mister city p'liceman sitting pretty, hollers stop!
But look at Frosty go, like Lucy in the sky, Don't you cry.
He's flying.
Frosty the Strawman
“That's ludicrous!” cried the pundit. Then, with a deprecatory slap, she sent Frosty's magic hat tumbling.
Frosty fell silent. Then, under the lights of the debate hall, he began rapidly to ooze away--his argument nothing more than water.
Frosty the Boatman
For a fare of three buttons, he will wave you aboard.
He will not speak. And the only sounds will be the whispering scrape of his wooden arms, as he sets himself to row, and the rhythmic swish-swish of the River Styx, sluicing through the bristles of his broomstick oars.
Frosty the Everyman
Because that's how it is, isn't, for all of us? A brief, desperate struggle to run, and to have some fun, and to do it now--Now, Now, Now--before we melt away.
“You can't catch me!” cried Frosty, nimble as a snowflake. “So many have tried!”
But the clever fox simply smiled, licked his lips, and flicked the “On” switch on his portable hairdryer.
Frostus, the Son of Man
A crown of thorns pierced His magic hat; the broomstick crucifix, too, on which He had been impaled was pitilessly stiff.
"Don't you cry,” He told the children, managing a weak smile. He gestured to Heaven, where His Father lived, and where His own body, once melted, would be transfigured to create spring rain.
“I'll be back again some day.”
Frost Kent, aka Superman
His cape, behind him, was a ripple of red, topped by an “S” stitched in yellow buttons.
“I have only one vulnerability,” he confessed to Lois, as he lifted her mittened hand to the irregular semi-circle of pebbles that composed his lips.
“Heat.”
Frostiet Tubman
She led them bravely, Thumpity, thump, thump; Thumpity, thump, thump, past dogs and bounty hunters, Thumpity, thump, thump; Thumpity, thump, thump, through hunger and heat, to the extreme north, where it was frozen year-round, and a snowman could be truly free.
Frosty the Trojan #1
There must have been some magic in that old arrow that he found. For when Frosty set it to his bow it sped away, quick as thought, and penetrated the heel of the fleet-footed Achilles.
And the great warrior fell.
Frosty the Trojan #2
High in the tower, in a locked bedroom, Frosty kept his stolen bride. She was Troy's great prize, but also its bane--the curse, that would eventually destroy the city, and reduce its topless towers to water.
Helen, dear Helen, the warmest woman in the world.
Frosty, The Last Man on Earth
“I'm still not interested,” she said coldly. And then she turned away, into the lonely white, leaving the engagement button untouched in his wooden palm.
Frosty the Pilsbury Dough Man
“Hmm-hmm!” giggled Frosty, doubling over, as the children's mittened fingers sculpted the snow that would compose his stomach.
“Hmm-hmm!”
Frosty the Cave Man
For a thousand years, he had followed the receding glacier, hunting mammoths and aurochs its shadow. Until, after an atypically violent summer, what lay before him was only a roaring river--the glacier unreachable beyond it.
And Frosty's snow-sculpted brain, topped with its thick brow ridges, could conceive of no way forward.
So he sank down, at last, the last of his people, and his broomstick spear rattled against bare rock.
Frosty the Eggman
Frosty is the walrus, and his whiskers are broom bristles. And his eyes, like those of a dead dog, are made of coal.
See how he runs, like a pig from a gun, singing, “Catch me if you can.”
Thumpity, thump thump; he's been a naughty boy.
Thumpity, thump thump; he's let his knickers down.
Mister city p'liceman sitting pretty, hollers stop!
But look at Frosty go, like Lucy in the sky, Don't you cry.
He's flying.
Frosty the Strawman
“That's ludicrous!” cried the pundit. Then, with a deprecatory slap, she sent Frosty's magic hat tumbling.
Frosty fell silent. Then, under the lights of the debate hall, he began rapidly to ooze away--his argument nothing more than water.
Frosty the Boatman
For a fare of three buttons, he will wave you aboard.
He will not speak. And the only sounds will be the whispering scrape of his wooden arms, as he sets himself to row, and the rhythmic swish-swish of the River Styx, sluicing through the bristles of his broomstick oars.
Frosty the Everyman
Because that's how it is, isn't, for all of us? A brief, desperate struggle to run, and to have some fun, and to do it now--Now, Now, Now--before we melt away.
Rachel Rodman's fiction has appeared at Fireside Fiction, Daily Science Fiction, Expanded Horizons, and elsewhere.
