Predecessor
#1 of Writing
Do you fear the winter?
When I was a girl, I had a fear of the cold. I heard of the horror that would happen out in the dark. The aftermath of the creatures that would prowl around unsuspecting persons just trying to return to their homes and reunite with their families. I feared the screams that would echo within the room from the outside and would cover my ears to try and ignore the begging; plus the sound of the things under my bed eating them alive.
When I was a girl, I had a fear of Snow. It's glistening innocents creating the perfect outcrop and camouflage for the monsters that would haunt my child-like dreams. I would hear their whispers in my ears when I would stare at the glistening gems my mother called ice for too long.
"Join us," they would whispers, their voices cold and haunting like the corpse of those long since forgotten and dead in the white, unforgiving wasteland.
"Return to us, Yukion'na," I would hear them every night, and no matter how hard I begged my father to let me curl up with him and my mother, I would always be sent back to bed with a tap to my hand and a scolding for waking him up.
"Return to us," my bones would chill at the request, and tears would always escape my eyes when they would grow louder, but no less gentle than they had previously.
"Feast with us, Yukion'na,"
When I was a girl, I feared what I might turn into as I would grow. The voices never seemed to leave, but they would become distant during the warmer seasons and leave me some peace to sleep. I would ask my mother some days what Yukion'na meant, why it seemed to be a bad thing, and there were times where her eyes would grow distant, and tears would fall like crystals down her cheeks.
She never told me the origin of my name until I went to school, and brought an injured bird into my class. My teacher had been mad at me and had called my parents claiming that I was going to turn out like the monster I was named after. That was when I learned of who Yukion'na was before I was born and I feared to prove to be like her.
When I was a lady, I set out to do something spectacular with my life. I had denied my 'birthright,' and set out into the world with a warm, sunny disposition on life. I fought to turn the name Yukion'na into something that could be loved and respected, rather than feared and hated. I could say that I was succeeding. Where my predecessor took darkness and death, I wanted light and protection. I tried to save as many people as I could. I tried to give them homes, food, more time to get their lives together, I gave everyone a little piece of my heart in the hopes that someday they could do something better and choose a path similar to mine. I succeeded.
When I was a woman, I had a fear of disappearing. The novelty of it all had worn off, and suddenly I wasn't needed. I was fading into the background. I had a fear of the voices still beckoning me, and when I had set out to do good, they had stopped. Remaining as a soft whisper in the back of my mind while I slaved day and night to help those who needed it, even when they would give me nothing in return.
When I became a croon, something was wrong. I had stopped aging, young children and teenagers I would take in would guess my age to be around twenty or thirty. I ceased to age, and the older I became, the louder the whispering got. Eventually, I wished for nothing more than to curl up and forget the world existed. I lost all contact with my family, and with the successful friends, I had created during my years of helping.
I am old enough to be dead now, and I have changed the Legend of Yukion'na. No longer does the name signify fear and death. Now it is affiliated with warmth, safety, and home. The name-- My name, is now affiliated with the chance, the opportunity to turn one's life around. I no longer am needed on this earth and the voices that once plagued me no longer do so.
For you see, I had done the impossible and helped the creatures that used to haunt me when I was a girl. But in doing so, I had to leave my legacy and become a monster myself.
Tell me, do you fear the snow?