The following is a festive model essay for multiple usage in class for my kids. Yes, I'm a teacher, lol. It's quite a brief, fun read. Enjoy!
In a winter wonderland called Snowscape, which was not so far away
and not too long ago, snow never ceased to fall. The overcast sky always rained
white flakes, as if it was a flower relinquishing its petals endlessly. The sun
had long been veiled by curtains of clouds, its shine toiling conscientiously
but to no avail. Its rays could not reach the snow-pelted ground. The birds
never chirped there, nor did the rest of the animals roam and feed. There were
no festivities to revel in and no carols to sing. Any hot food or beverage
turned cold instantly whenever anyone brought them into Snowsape. Its
residents, at the mention of a single entity, cringed fearfully.
Jack Frost was the king of Snowscape. He was a colossal giant who
donned garbs of iceberg with tassels of frozen streams. He reigned
over all that was chilly and frosty. Gnomes, reindeers, Christmas trees and
everything else always fled from Jack’s carriage, for it was a barrage of
hailstorms and icy winds. They signalled his arrival and lingered in his wake. The
vibrant array of mellow fireplaces and lavish patisseries all trembled gloomily
in the resounding voice of Jack Frost.
Jack, like Santa Claus, went about his yearly routines
faithfully. However, instead of rolling down chimneys and stuffing velvet
stockings until they brimmed with toys and confectionery, he blew through the
crevices between the window panes of houses. One Christmas Eve, Jack snuck
upon a little quaint shack. A little girl was asleep in bed, the mahogany frame
groaning as she turned and tossed. He was on the verge of freezing a scrumptious
meal of brownies and milk laid out for Santa, when all at once, Jack heard a
muffled gasp. Wrenching his head upward, he saw the girl, clutching her mouth
with both hands.
Under the
emerging twilight, a gigantic face was peering into her house. His countenance
was almost translucent, like the sweeping mist of the frigid night. The
spectral blue eyes, unlike hers, were bleak and impassive. His expression was
vacuous and distant, but his raised eyebrows betrayed his intentions. Slowly,
the monumental head withdrew from the window. He huffed and puffed, rattling
the ornaments and baubles on her Christmas tree. The girl’s eyes widened
submissively, although she appeared fixated on him. Jack bellowed and howled,
showering the rundown cabin with a blizzard. His breath nipped the girl’s
cheeks and she winced, but she stood her ground.
Undeterred, the girl trudged toward Jack, her footprints deep in
the snow. Caught by surprise, Jack could only watch as she approached him. She was
barefoot and dressed scarcely, her head wrapped by a tattered shawl. Her face
was in excruciating pain, but she finally spoke.
“My n-name is D-Daleylia,” she whispered in a quaking voice.
“What’s your name?”
“Jack Frost,” Jack growled, hoping that his voice was low and
coarse to frighten the girl away. Instead, her innocent demeanour overpowered
him.
Before he could stop her, Daleylia had spread her tiny arms around
his toes. She was already shivering with frostbite and her skin was taking on a
blue hue, however, she held on.
“You… aren’t afraid of me, child?” Jack grunted, appalled and
anxious. He had never been embraced in all his life. The feeling of her little
warm hands had pricked his ice-cold heart.
“Why should I be afraid of someone in pain?” she cooed in a gentle
voice. “Mother said to hug sad people on Christmas. Oh! Look below you!”
Mistletoes were draped along the underside of the roofs behind
Jack. No sooner had he looked down, Jack felt the softest love enveloping his
entire body. Daleylia had tenderly kissed his toe. Jack Frost, the coldest and
cruellest being, began to melt. It was neither in agony, nor was it pain. The
gentleness of the little girl had permeated his core and the pure appreciation
she had for him raced through him, as if there were fireworks in his heart.
Gradually, Jack melted away, his fading voice emanating in
gratitude and his body dissipating into hummocks of snow. He became the White
Christmas that everyone had dreamt of. The sun shone in
Snowscape once more, extending its lambent charisma to every nook and cranny.
The inhabitants of the wonderland danced and romped rowdily in perky glee. They
could venture into the world in flocks of parties and delight children
everywhere. People began to mould snow angels, build snowmen, wage snowball fights and whisk off in snow sleds. With the help of a compassionate little girl, Jack Frost had become
an indispensable spirit of Christmas.
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