The old man sat precariously on the throne, guarded by several large pyres of ice. Icy blue skin and eyes contrasted tremendously with his white hair, woolly beard and rich robes, and a mischievous smile gave his face a mischievous look. Where was he going to send the next squall or blizzard? Germany? France? Southwestern Ontario, Canada? The wicked grin changed to a thoughtful frown as his pyres began to shrink. He knew that his time on the throne was coming to an end soon. He had to throw out as many storms and pleasantries of his season before the enormous doors banged open.
“Old Man Winter!” Came her cheery voice. “Times up!”
“Ah yes,” he said as snowflakes blew out with every word. “Spring. How have you been dear?”
Spring was a budding woman no older than thirty with green curly hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her golden eyes shined with renewal, and her hands were placed precariously on her hips. Broad leaves covered her slender figure before she stormed up to the ice barrier and pointed a long, green nail from an avocado toned finger that graced her whole body. The overuse of green in springs’ attire annoyed Winter to no end.
“How have I been, Old Man?” She asked tartly. “How have I been?! I’ve been trying to warm this area up for weeks, and you keep pushing me away because you feel inclined to drop another three feet of snow on some poor town.”
Winter heaved a mighty, dreary sigh before flicking his weathered wrists to give Spring a path to enter. “Come Spring, why all this complaining? I’m only doing my job, the same as you.”
“I quite happen to like the sounds of baby birds and smells of tulips, thanks.” She responded crisply. “Winter is over, Old Man and it’s my turn to play on the throne for the next little bit.”
“Tell me Spring,” Winter challenged. “How do you propose to get me off my throne? The world would look fantastic in a blanket of white, don’t you think?”
“Let me think about that,” Spring spat back. “No. Never. Not gonna happen. Pack your bags, clear out the chambers and for the love of all things sane, get rid of all this ice!”
Winter’s booming laughter reverberated in the large hall before he rose to his feet. Spring had always amused him and he felt like taunting her a bit more. She was like a cat chasing a ball full of catnip when she rose to the occasion like this. “Tell me Spring, if I were to… abdicate the throne to you today, what would you give me in return?”
“What’s in this for you? Simple,” she said confidently with a snap of her fingers. Threads of green began creeping up the old man’s legs. “You hand over the throne, and I won’t turn you into a green old man Winter.”
He smirked at her spunky nature. “Really Spring. You would turn this poor old man into a hedge statue. Really my sweet girl, you wound me.”
“I could always turn you into a tree. You’re certainly tall enough, and the bird and squirrels would love to make their homes on or in you,” she shot back with a wink. “A nice flowering Tulip Tree would suit you just fine.”
“Really my dear, you know I don’t like tulips.” He groaned.
“Thus their appeal.” She returned smugly. “Big, tall and pink, purple and white all spring. After that, Summer would have a blast with you!”
“Ah yes, Summer has always been a pain.”
“We’re the younger seasons, old man. We’re supposed to be carefree and fun. You and Fall? Well, you’re the old farts who try to keep the young’uns in line and all that old fart stuff that Fall spouts.”
Winter shook his head at the girl before levelling a hard look at her. “Watch your tone or I’ll refuse to give you the throne six weeks early.”
Spring waved her dismissively at the threat. “Please, like anybody believes what those groundhogs say. I bet you’ve been paying them to see their shadows and go back to sleep for another six weeks.”
Clever girl thought Winter and Spring merely grinned that smug little grin of hers.
“You can correct me if I’m wrong,” she quipped.
“SILENCE!” He bellowed before stepping off the throne’s dais. He glared daggers at the girl before sweeping past her with one last cold blast. “Foolish child, you’ll pay for this insolence next year.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she quipped in response.
Spring skipped up the dais and settled herself on it as the pyres of ice were quickly disposed of and replaced with several broad, newly budding trees. The chamber was filled with the scent of the forest as Winter slammed the doors behind him. Year after year, Spring always reminded Winter of one solitary point.
Spring was more than a pretty face.
This post was inspired by this prompt. Although, instead of making Spring male, I opted for a female, more spunky Spring! Also, Grammarly is amazing. If you have the extra cash lying around, give it a shot.