HOME | DD

Description
Prologue – Carol Of The Bells

The harsh winds were finally beginning to calm down. Wiping his face, he looked at his hand, smeared in blood and sweat. He managed to steady himself, and look at his opponent.

She staggered, clutching onto her otherwise limp arm. With a hiss, she glared at him, flinching from the pain. Though neither had fallen, she was damaged far worse than he.

However, the ultimate loser here was the town.

Buildings torn down, roads ripped up, and only a few lucky survivors. The ill fated ones, who had the unfortunate luck of running outside while the battle commenced, suffered heavily. It was the innocent who laid at the feet of the fighters, moving no longer.

Indignant, the woman spat down at the ground. "You win today, Jacob Frost...Jack."She snarled the name, as if it was dirt on her tongue. "But I assure you...this will not be the last time we meet! And when we do, this town will face a whole new dimension of destruction!" The winds came to life once more, and fluffy snow swirled furious flakes around her body. "You will pay, Jacob..." Her eyes lit up, inhaling deeply for one last scream.

"YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

In a blink, she had vanished. All that remained of her was the death and annihilation she had caused. With a heavy sigh, the old man turned away, looking towards the mountains. He slowly began to move, trudging back from his home...all the while, he could still hear the screams of the townspeople just minutes before, the creaks as the homes collapsed, and the utter noise of a frozen hell.

He suddenly clamped his hands onto his ears, trying to plug out the memories of those sounds. Hunched over, he could still hear them banging into his head. Maybe if he went home....he wouldn't hear them anymore...

...Then, a new noise.

He opened his eyes, realizing this new one wasn't attached to his memories. He removed his hands, and glanced to a nearby snowbank. Among the clumps, a woman no longer of the life lay there, her immobile arms holding something close. The man's eyes softened, seeing the position in which she lay....she had used her own body as a shield for whatever she carried.

He knelt down, and gently parted her arms. In a bundle of red cloth was a small child,a mouse with black fur...the noise was his cry, which was beginning to fade, with his life force. Softly, he scooped the little one into his arms, and gazed down into the boy's eyes. From his pale complexion, it was clear he was not going to survive. The old man studied the baby for a moment, and then, with a slight bit of hesitation, placed his hand on the babe's forehead.

"This one should not suffer, for a mistake he was never involved in..."

Black became white, and the cries that had once stopped suddenly awakened again, louder than before. The old man gave a weary smile at this, and began his journey once more. Perhaps with this boy...the sounds in his mind could be drowned out.

"You shall be named by how you survived....one life risked for another...a guardian over your fate..."

"...Guardian..."

"...Michael."

End of Prologue.

Chapter One – Jingle Bells

Eighteen years later...

Though it was early in the morning, many people were walking out of their houses and breathing in the fresh, chilly air. Most of these people, however, were children. It had snowed as they had slept, so now they were more than happy to frolic in their new atmosphere. As snow forts and little wars began to build up, the amused adults went about their day, earning the money for a roof over their heads, or getting a jump start on Christmas shopping. The blessed holiday was a month away, and it was best to avoid the rush.

Even all the stores had begun to set up vibrant Christmas displays in their windows. Little ones would press their noses against the glass, fascinated by the treasures inside. The kids all agreed that the best display of them all was in fact from the local toy store. A tiny train rode around a mini tree, while tin soldiers decorated this tree with the aide of pretty dolls. As our story begins, this view was being shared by four eager souls, pushing each other aside to see better.

"Hey, hey, look!" One of them shouted, pointing to the uppermost left corner. "It's a plane! It looks like a real one!" This observation was made by a young duck by the name of Hubert Duck, better known as Huey. As he pointed, his red scarf began to slip, and he quickly adjusted his trademark color.

"I like the train the best." Quipped another duck, looking all the same, save for his colors being that of a grassy green. Louis Duck, a.k.a Louie, stood on the tippy toes of his webbed feet for a closer inspection. "It's even carrying candy canes! Isn't that cool, Dewey?"

The third of the identical triplets, Deuteronomy Duck, was fixing his scarf of blue when he was being addressed. He smiled, glad to share his opinion. "A-huh! But I like the soldiers! I hope Uncle Donald gets us those!"

"As long as it's not socks again, I'll be happy no matter what we get." Huey replied, giving his brothers a grin. All three burst into giddy laughter, recalling that humorous memory. Even the yellow dog beside them seemed to give a few chuckles, nodding his head along accordingly. As they began to calm down, the canine turned around, his eyes asking his friend what he thought.

The final member of the party was not a duck, nor a child, but the gaze he gave upon the store was much like that of a real young one. "Gee, Pluto..." He finally began to speak, having made his decision. "I like them all the best!" He shot a smile at his companion, who merely rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of Uncle Donald..." Louie spoke up, his beak curling into a mischievous appearance, casting his eyes away from the store. "There he is, across the street!"

They all turned around, spotting an adult duck walking in the crowd from afar. With a whistle to his step, he merrily walked by all the people, his comical sailor hat bobbing along with him. Huey looked at Louie, who looked at Dewey, and all three nodded. Pluto wiggled his eyebrows to the boy beside him, who merely shook his head, knowing what trouble would arise. The triplets bent over, grabbing chunks of snow from the sidewalk.

"Ready..."

"Aim..."

"Fire!"

Without further warning, a barrage of snowballs soared through the air, smacking into their relative with perfect aim. The sailor gave off a startled scream, and then looked furiously from where the attack had come from. Once his eyes landed on his nephews, his rage only increased, turning his face into a red tomato of fury. "WHY YOU LITTLE - "

"RUN FOR IT!" The fifth one had shouted, but the little boys had already sped off without needing to be instructed. Laughing wildly, both he and the dog joined in the triplets escape, while the angry Uncle gave chase.

They zigged this way, they zagged that way, and they took every route they could throughout the small town. All the while Donald screamed dangerous threats at them, but they merely laughed at their consequences, sometimes even throwing a few insults right back at him. During a particularly good battle cry, consisting of comparing their Uncle to several species of particularly disgusting insects, they did not pay attention to where their feet took them, resulting in a spectacular crash into an older male.

By the time Donald, the dog, and the amused ally caught up with them, the mess was already made. The identical brothers lay sprawled on the cold sidewalk, and cardboard boxes filled with bedspreads and clothes and all sorts of things were splattered all around,but the most noticeable part of it all was who they had crashed into. His long face face was pressed into the frozen grass of the home they now all stood before, his arms spread out, and his rear sticking in the air for all to see.

Donald rolled his eyes, and began to help his boys up. "Now look what you kids did!" He snapped, waving a finger of disapproval. "You're going to stay here and help Goofy clean up all this..." He then trailed off, looking at what exactly had spilled. He looked to the lanky dog curiously as he began to sit up, rubbing his aching head. "... What are you doing, Goofy?"

George Goof stood up, brushing snow off of his pants, before giving off a classic buck-toothed smile. "I was just helpin' Miss Marissa move some extra stuff in!" He explained, his hick accent loud and clear. "She aint been feelin' too swell, so her niece is gunna move in and help her out."

"We're getting a new neighbor?" Dewey inquired, placing some pillows back in one box. "Where is she?"

The fifth friend looked over at the house, and winced harshly. "Oh no, guys....here's the Marisa monster herself!" Pluto snickered at the remark, although he was backing up slightly.

"What in the world is going on here?" A high voice shrieked, causing all the males to jump and turn. Standing right behind Goofy was a tall feminine mouse, and if her large nose didn't catch attention, her blindingly yellow curls might have. Her violet high society dress was nearly hidden by the gigantic shawl she was clutching onto as if it was life itself. "George, I ask you to do one simple chore, and you've already messed it up!" She put her hands on her hip, glaring right at him.

"Hey!" Pluto's buddy remarked, looking rather upset. "He didn't do anything, leave him alone!" He never had really cared for Marissa, but then, neither did plenty of sane people in the town.

Donald groaned, and rubbed his already throbbing temples at the sound of her voice. "I'm afraid it was the boys...they bumped right into help, but they're helping clean it up."

Marrissa's lip twitched, clearly uncomfortable with children touching her precious things. "Just make it snappy. I want everything in my house to be perfect when Minerva moves in tomrrow."

Pausing in his work, Louie looked at her quizzically. "Minerva? Is she the niece?"

"Of course she is." The aunt snipped, and then pointed to the object in the child's hand. "You're holding a picture of her, for heaven's sake. Although it was taken when she was roughly around your age..." She shuddered at the thought.

The triplets all leaned over to get a glimpse. Even the ignored member of the group walked over, rather intrigued by the prospect of a new playmate. As he hovered over the three, he got a very good look at the old photo inside a wooden brown frame. It depicted a little mouse girl, curled up on a sofa and reading a story to a small doll in her arms. A little bow graced her spot of hair, and she looked more than pleased to share her story – the cover read 'The Little Mermaid' – to her toy.

During their gaze, Marissa snapped at them all to continue helping her out. While the ducks and dog struggled to refill the boxes, the outsider merely stood here, contemplating what he'd seen. The girl had been the dictionary definition of 'adorable', but that photo was obviously taken years ago. What would she look like now? What was she like? What did she sound like? Was she anything like her horrid aunt? These questions and more swirled around his mind, forgetting those around him momentarily...until Pluto let out a bark, nearly scaring the man half to death...which would have been impossible anyway.

The boys looked at the canine, as he pawed at the ground, demanding more play. His friend chuckled, taking a few steps back. "All right, boy! I'll race you to the lake!" He turned to the others, giving them a short wave. "See you later!" He then sped off, the mutt yipping at his heels in glee.

As the dog sped off, Marissa shook her head disapprovingly. "Really now, Donald, how can you let your boys go near that wild animal? That thing should have been locked up in the pound."

Goofy made a bit of a grunt, holding a particularly heavy box. "Aw, Pluto don't mean no harm, Miss Marissa!"

She gave an indignant snort at that. "If you ask me, the stupid thing has lost its mind. Always barking at nothing! Then giving those creepy expressions to thin air...like he's talking to someone!"

Dewey, the brightest amongst his brothers, closed a box and spoke up. "Well, I once read that dogs have really good senses...they can see and hear things we can't!"

Their uncle gave a sharp laugh at that. "Sure, Dewey...you're telling us Pluto's talking to a ghost?"

Before the boy could reply, he noticed a flake at landed on his beak. This was soon joined by more, and more, and more, until the entire area was being danced around by tiny snowflakes. As Marissa began to the rant, Goofy merely gave a chuckle, walking to the house. "I guess this means he's talkin' to Jack Frost himself!" He teased. "Uh-hyuck!"

~*~

The sun had set, and all the tired children and adults retreated to their homes. This included the friend that could not be seen, who had left the town entirely. For only a short distance from the village was a prestigious mountain, that could be seen from every household. With the dog, the two stood at the very bottom of the structure, knowing their play had ended for the day.

He slowly pet Pluto, looking a little sad at their departure. "You better go back now, boy. Dad'll probably get mad if he finds out you followed me way back here." The hound whined, and offered a gentle licking onto his face, even though he knew it couldn't be felt. He chuckled a little, and waved his hands. "We'll play tomorrow...go on, go on!"

Pluto wildly nodded his head, making a sort of 'yeah-yeah-yeah' noise in agreement. He then ran off, ready to look for his home for the night. As for the other...he merely looked at the mountain, and jumped off the ground. Like a paper bag in the wind, he floated up higher and higher to his destination.

George Goof, for once in his life, was nearly correct about what he said. This was not Jack Frost.

It was, however, his son.

~*~

At the very top of the mountain, there was an undiscovered cave. It was carved in very deeply, providing all the room a lone man needed. He waited expectedly near the entrance, his eyes searching for his son. Oddly enough, he looked nothing like his boy. His face was lined with wrinkles, and white hair poured down from his scalp and face. Such an aged appearance he had, it was as if he'd lived to see the birth of the planet. Blue and white robes hung onto him, much like a morning robe. He leaned on a jagged cane, made entirely of ice. As he continued his look, he moved a white hair from his face.

He didn't have to look this way. It was his repentance, for his hand in the terror eighteen years ago...

Before he could divulge in painful memories, he spotted his child, whimsically flying through the air. He made a few flips, before landing in front of his father. If one could look at them, the difference between them was even more clear. The younger one had kept his mouse form, yet was a light, dusty blue from his big ears to his thin tail. He smiled up at his elder, pleased to see him. "Hiya Dad!" He chirped, unaware of how long the father had stood there.

Jack gave a long, heavy sigh, looking down at his son. "You're late."

The mouse blinked, surprised. "Really?...Oh, uh, agee, I'm sorry!" He toed the ground nervously.

The old man turned away, heading back to the cave. "I only allowed you to interact with the mortals because it's the only thing you've ever asked for. All I want is for you to keep your promise, and come home before night falls. " His ice cane clicked on the frozen ground as he walked.

The younger relative frowned, and followed him. "I said I was sorry...it won't happen again, I promise!"

Jack Frost paused, and then peered down at his lad, and reached down. He affectionately stroked his son's head, causing him to smile. "...Let us go rest...Michael Frost."

End of Chapter One.