There once was a girl with icicles instead of hair, and she
spat sleet and shat snow. Every Wednesday, she would walk
back from school and stop by the well, to look down at the
pale waters and see her reflection, to breathe upon it so
that it would flash-freeze and crack. She hated herself and
wanted to die. But then, there came a Wednesday when her
breath was futile, for the well had frozen itself overnight.
She realized then that she was a Winter Princess, and that
her time had come. Naked, running, her hair spread out,
covering the city like hail. The good people stayed at home,
huddled around fireplaces, pretending to be safe.

She lay on the frozen lake, looked up into the white sky.
Her blue lips whispered commands, and weather obeyed...

The world ended that night, in a flurry of icicles. I
remember this, because I watched her by the lake, as I did
every Wednesday until then.