Eternal Frost


The sun arose. Light glistened off the newly fallen frost. It was the early signs of winter.
A little green caterpillar crawled out of his home in the tree. My, my, he thought, Winter sure has come early. I better start getting ready! No time for the holidays this time around! Mr. Kitterpilar’s heart raced, a wide grin stretched across his tiny face. “This is it!” he jumped joyously, “This is finally the year I spread my wings!” His violet eyes grew wide.

Mr. Kitterpilar lifted up his body. Where, oh where should he pick? Not too low because what if some hungry birdie searching for his breakfast looked up? And not too high because what if a great wind swept him off like a... a great wind? Nah, Mr. Kitterpilar had a spot picked out in his mind. Why his lucky branch, of course! The only branch on the tree that had a bite to eat when he found it. A branch full of crisp, deep green leaves: the best he had ever found anywhere!

Slink, slink, slink. Mr. Kitterpilar slunk his way over to his lucky branch... Or what had been his lucky branch. Splinters jutted and jabbed out of the base. He could hear it cracking in the breeze. Well... his mind pondered. He didn’t let this upset him. He rarely let anything upset him. Mr. Kitterpilar just smiled and said, “Welp! I have to find me another branch! A better branch!” He was certainly optimistic. “Goodbye, old friend,” he patted the bark, “We had lots of good times together.” Mr. Kitterpilar sat and briefly reminisced, a tear collecting in his eye. He not only thought of how much that single branch had done for him, but how it had gotten him this far to finally reach his dream. “I wish we coulda’ made it just a little farther together. Just a little farther...” He gazed out to the edge of it, a thoughtful and thankful smile grew. “Goodbye,” he said under his breath.

A chilly breeze blew by. It just barely shook the branch. Goodbye, Mr. Kitterpilar, it looked like it waved. Mr. Kitterpilar felt at peace. He slowly slunk back over to the hole in the tree. He crawled into his home, grabbed some dinner, and went to sleep.
The next morning Mr. Kitterpilar did not feel the same excitement as he had the day before. He stayed in for a little, his mind stuck on what had happened to his lucky branch. “It’s just a little case of the blues. It’ll pass.” He decided he was going to try and cheer himself up. He was going to go branch hunting! He wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad! he thought to himself. He would want me to go on! To spread my wings! And so he went.

All day Mr. Kitterpilar searched, high and low and in between! “Where are you, friend?” he would call out periodically. He climbed up and down. All of the branches he found just didn’t sit right with him. He knew that when he found the right branch, he would feel it in his heart. The golden sun began to set, tinting the sky the colors of autumn. “I guess it’s time to head home,” he said with a sigh of disappointment. A breeze howled in front of him, blowing icy frost at him. Mr. Kitterpilar turned his head away, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a single tree branch against the velvet horizon. That would be his new branch. He slunk his way up and over to investigate his new friend. “It’s sturdy,” he said in an almost half- interested tone. “And.. the bark is smooth. No cracks or breaks.. A few twigs...” Mr. Kitterpilar’s heart began to race as an open smile enveloped his face. He felt a tickle in his chest. “It’s perfect!”

For the next week or so, Mr. Kitterpilar was preparing for his long sleep. He knew he would be stuck in his subconscious for the next few months, but he’d be in his dream for the rest of his life. He picked out exactly where he’d make his cocoon, and make sure he had anything he would need for when he woke up.

The day finally arrived. Mr. Kitterpilar felt it in his heart. It was early in the morning, the sun just peeking over the pristine mountain tops. The air was warmer this day. It was perfect. Except... something felt amiss. Just something. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Ah well, he thought. And so it began. Mr. Kitterpilar’s completed the last moments of the life he once loved, ready for what was to lie ahead. He started. Slowly and carefully, he wrapped himself. He knew he had to do it far superior than perfect. He had to do it exactly right, and better still. The sun rose and the sun set, hiding its face behind the westward snow-capped mountains. Mr. Kitterpilar finished his cocoon just as the final rays of the sun vanished into the crisp air. It was done.

Winter set in. Mr. Kitterpilar was deep in his sleep. Snow fell softly in the night sky and shimmered in the daylight. The temperature dropped lower and lower. The cocoon lay as still as the icicles hanging alongside him. It was a wonderland. Sheets of deep snow blanketed everything. And Mr. Kitterpilar dreamed.

Winter rounded to an end. But not the snow. The remains of winter lingered far into what should be spring. The branch on which Mr. Kitterpilar had made his pod was covered in a heavy dusting of ice and snow. The only indication of the cocoon was a small frosty mountain. It lay motionless, with Mr. Kitterpilar trapped in his dreams forever.