The Immortal Boy of Winter | The Tale of Jack Frost and Snowy

Long ago, in a quiet, snow-covered village nestled by a frozen lake, there lived a cheerful little boy named Jack. He was the light of his parents’ life. Though their wooden shack was old and weather-worn, laughter and love filled every corner of their home. No riches adorned their table, but joy made them wealthier than any king.

Then one harsh winter day, everything changed. Jack’s beloved father went out to gather wood—and never returned.

“Where is Father?” Jack asked, his innocent eyes full of worry.

His mother, voice heavy with sorrow, whispered, “He lives in the heavens now, my dear. He’s watching over us from the sky.”

Jack couldn’t sleep that night. The winter winds howled through the cracks in the shack, chilling him to the bone. His heart was heavy with sadness, yet a strange curiosity stirred within him. Quietly, he rose from his bed and tiptoed outside, careful not to wake his grieving mother.

To his amazement, a shimmering golden staircase spiraled up from the center of the frozen lake, vanishing into the cloudy sky above. It wasn’t there before. His mother had said his father was in the sky—could this be the path to see him again?

Determined, Jack stepped onto the staircase and began his ascent. As he climbed higher, soft snowflakes fell around him. Soon, he encountered a prickly little hedgehog shivering on the steps.

“It’s freezing, isn’t it?” the hedgehog said, his nose twitching. “They say it gets warmer the higher you climb. That’s why I’m headed up.”

Jack smiled, even though he was confused. Weren’t hedgehogs supposed to be hibernating during winter?

Further up, a great fluffy polar bear joined them on the staircase. She looked kind and gentle, though her belly growled with hunger.

“I’ve come looking for food,” she explained. “There’s none left in the North Pole. I heard there are banquets in the sky.”

Jack shared his purpose: “I want to see my father.”

Together, they climbed higher, and the air became warmer, just as the hedgehog promised. Soon, the land below disappeared, replaced by a sea of clouds, and at the summit stood majestic pearly gates guarded by a snowy owl with intelligent eyes behind a pair of spectacles.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the owl said to the hedgehog and polar bear, who passed through the gates cheerfully. Then he turned his gaze to Jack. “And who might you be?”

“I want to see my father. My mother said he lives in the sky,” Jack said earnestly.

“You cannot enter,” the owl declared solemnly, “but I will let you meet him.”

With a grand flap of his wings, the owl conjured Jack’s father, who appeared in a swirl of light.

“Father!” Jack cried, running into his arms.

“My dear boy! Why are you here? You’re still alive… aren’t you?” his father asked anxiously.

The owl shook his head, clucking his tongue. “Anyone who sets foot on these stairs walks the line between life and death. You are no longer alive—but not truly dead either.”

Jack was frightened. “Then I want to stay here with Father!”

His father pleaded, “No, son, your time hasn’t come yet. You must return.”

The owl considered the dilemma. “There is a way,” he said. “I will return you to the earth, but under one condition: no living soul will see you. You’ll become a part of winter itself—forever young, forever in the season of frost. But you’ll never grow old, and you’ll never die, as long as winter exists.”

Jack agreed with a heavy heart. He embraced his father tightly one last time. “Goodbye, Father.”

With another flap of the owl’s wings, his father vanished into light once more. Jack wiped his tears and started down the golden staircase.

On his descent, he met a lonely arctic fox with brilliant white fur.

“I came out of boredom,” the fox admitted, “but the owl sent me away.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Jack offered. “We have a frozen lake perfect for skating. I’m Jack, by the way.”

“I’m Snowy!” the fox said excitedly. Together, they returned to the earth, just as the golden staircase faded behind them.

They played all winter long, skating on the frozen lake, making snow sculptures, and chasing the howling winds. Jack felt no cold; in fact, he felt alive, as though winter had embraced him as its own.

But when spring arrived, Jack and Snowy vanished like morning frost. Only when winter returned did they reappear, bringing playful mischief and snowy delights.

Back in the shack, Jack’s mother mourned the loss of her son. Yet every winter, she swore she could glimpse him dancing on the ice, a flash of silver hair and laughter like wind-chimes. Sometimes she even spotted a white fox at his side.

Generations passed, but Jack’s legend never faded. People called him Jack Frost—the spirit of winter, the boy who brings the frostbite’s kiss and the artistry of ice on windowpanes. Every time winter breathes its cold into the world, some say it’s Jack playing nearby, reminding us that even in the chill, there’s beauty and wonder.

Moral of the Story

Love can transcend life and death, but every season has its time. Cherish your loved ones while you can, for even winter carries echoes of those we miss.