North

“Miss! Miss! Would you like a boat ride?”

“I don’t like boats, thank you.”

“Why not?”

“They’re scary.”

“They can be. But, Miss, they can lead to incredible adventures.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a long, epic tale.”

“Oh, I don’t have time—”

“A few winters ago, a man hired my boat for a journey. I asked for a destination and he only said, ‘North.’ We sailed North, through sun and storms. I saw ice upon the waves and again asked for a destination. Again he said, ‘North.’ The ice flows grew larger, and the spaces between them narrowed until I could go no further. When I told him I could not continue, he merely nodded and said, ‘Wait here.’ The man climbed onto the ice sheet and walked inland. It was hard to see what he did next due to the distance. He seemed to carve something onto the surface of the ice, then anoint it with blood from his own thumb. Finally, I heard chanting. What happened next sent shivers down my spine. A terrifying gale manifested from nowhere. It rocked the boat furiously and threatened to crush it between the ice. Then I saw a cyclone of snow and ice descend before the man. As suddenly as it came, the gale and cyclone evaporated. In its place, a being I could only describe as the Lord of Winter. It stood ten meters high! Its beard brushed the ice and was festooned with icicles. The being’s skin seemed crystalline, its face looked sharp, cruel and it stared murderously down at the man who summoned him. ‘Why has thee conjured me, Mortal.’ It growled. The man shouted, ‘I’ve had enough! My ass can’t stand another four months of frozen toilet seats! Not this year!’ And he drew a double-barrel shotgun from his cloak and unloaded a slug into each of the Lord of Winter’s kneecaps. BLAM! BLAM! The thing howled and crumpled to the ice. ‘Death! Death comes for thee, Mortal!’ The man stoically reloaded and blew the thing’s head off. BLAM! I watched dumbfounded as he calmly dragged the corpse into the ocean and climbed back into the boat. ‘South,’ He said. I asked what resided that direction and he said grimly, ‘His lady.’ So we—”

“The writer is mad it was 20°F this morning, isn’t he.”

“He’s absolutely pissed.”