All the colours of the sky: A short story for Christmas

A snowman discovers he cannot melt and decides to journey across the world to see his namesake – the Aurora Borealis

Borealis Jansen was worried.

What made him worry was that he was a snowman.

The fact that he could worry at all was what really worried him.

His body was a symphony of snowflakes, each delicate crystal contributing to the harmony of his form. He had a plump midsection with a jovial air. And he had a family resemblance of a face made of lines and abandoned vegetable. Absolutely none of it should have been able to worry.

But he did.

He noticed it the day after he had been built by the neighbourhood kids. The kids had laughed after naming him Borealis Jansen. And then they had left and he had waited. Waited to melt.

A few days passed and he started to get an uncomfortable feeling. The weather had changed and much of the snow around him had melted. But he hadn’t. And that’s when he started to worry. After all, that was what snowmen did.

There was a mushy quality in his makeup that suggested he should have done so. But, instead, he was still there.

To distract himself from his troubles, he watched the people go by. But then came Christmas Eve and everyone went home and stayed inside.

Borealis grew bored. But, just as he was wondering where everyone was, there was a loud noise and a bloom of lights in the sky. That’s when Borealis discovered he could move. Not walk, of course. That would be ridiculous. But he could slide.

As he slid, he saw that what startled him was a fireworks display that glowed bright against the night. There was something beautiful and even familiar about it. But it ended too soon and Borealis was left alone once again.

After a bit more worrying, Borealis decided to take matters into his own stick hands. He would explore the city and find something to distract him from his worries.

He slid around Seattle, sometimes peering into windows. He saw many things. Bright lights, Christmas cheer, opening presents, and jolly times.

But something was missing.

The truth was, the people around him seemed happy. But he wasn’t. Inside his frosty interior, he felt a sudden emptiness. Who was he? Why was he able to think and move? Why were his counterparts, the other snowmen of Seattle, content to stare back at him motionless?

And something kept nagging at him. Like an old ache that wouldn’t go away. For the first time, Borealis tried to close his eyes.

Behind them was a darkness. Even darker than the night sky. But then, a change. A ripple. A ribbon. A band of colour. Green and pink and blue and purple and many subtler hues. But it was hazy and indistinct.

Ah, he thought. The Aurora Borealis.

He didn’t know how, but he knew it instantly. And, in depths of his frozen heart, he felt a deep yearning. A longing for the frozen north, for the dance that flickered across the firmament. The phenomenon that shared his name.

Borealis made a bold decision. Especially for a snowman. After all, he hadn’t heard of a snowman who had made a bolder one. He would journey to see the Aurora Borealis. Not the half-remembered snatches of time when he closed his eyes. The real thing.

With a determined slush of his body, he began his journey from Seattle to Tromsø.

Travelling, Borealis found, was difficult. Thankfully, he did not need much. But there was only so far he could get by sliding.

To get to his destination, he would have to get closer to the people. It was a curious thing. They never seemed to notice him skidding by. This, he thought, was perhaps for the best. He was worried at the best of times and he could do without worrying about what others thought of him.

And it allowed him to sneak by without money, hitching lifts on any vehicle or vessel that would get him closer to his destination.

It was a long, slow road, over land and water. Through Montana and Ontario, to Hudson Bay, Greenland, Iceland, and then Norwegian Sea. The days passed. How many, he was not sure.

He saw people of all walks of life, a vast array of faces and tastes and ideas. And still, he continued on.

And then, one day, he crossed the border.

A tension began to build in him until the very air seemed to crackle with anticipation. Finally, Borealis had reached the city of Tromsø.

To his surprise, he discovered it was Christmas Eve. It had taken a year for the snowman to make his way across the world to the Norwegian city. And something inside of him calmed. Something that had been stretched taut all his life that he hadn’t even known about.

The city felt familiar. Not just because it reminded him of Seattle. There was a comfort here.

But as his eyes turned to the ring of mountains, he decided there was more to discover.

He trekked again, crossing snow-covered landscapes and frozen lakes. He encountered the wary eyes of animals who seemed to note his passing through their wintry domain. And there was joy in his heart. A freedom unlike anything he had ever felt before. The magic in him seemed to hum with a sudden surge of delight.

He danced through the fields, leaving a trail of ice that sparkled in the moonlight. He crossed glistening fjords and towering mountains. The chilly wind nipped at him, and the stars above seemed to whisper their secrets.

Borealis reached the Arctic Circle. He knew the exact right place. He stood there and he waited. And he waited. And he waited.

And the sky ripped open.

A cosmic canvas splashed with emerald rivers and sapphire flames.

The aurora danced, a celestial ballet orchestrated by the wind, weaving tales of dragons and forgotten gods.

It painted the sky. And Borealis knew that it was the same magic that thrummed through him. He stood, transfixed, icy tears streaming down his face.

This was where his snow had come from.

Overwhelmed with joy, he joined the cosmic dance. His snowy limbs twirled in harmony with the lights. He closed his eyes. He did not need them to see any longer.

As the celestial spectacle continued, something changed. Even in this frozen wonderland, Borealis began to melt. But he did not feel fear, or sadness. He was happy. Through his determination, he had completed his quest. And all snowmen melt.

But he could rest easy. After all, he was home.

This article is part of Stripe, bdnews24.com's special publication focusing on culture and society from a youth perspective.