Little Monique was looking through the window at the white world. The streets were covered with snow and so were the parked cars and the leafless trees. It looked beautiful, if a bit eerie, she felt. It was the first time in her life that she’d seen snow not on a photo or on TV.

There was nobody outside, she noticed. Before, at this time of the day, there wouldn’t be many people, but there would be some. Her neighbour would be working in her garden tidying dead leaves, some cars would ride by, somebody would pass carrying a bag of groceries. Now, everything was still.

Perfectly quiet, perfectly unnatural.

And yet Monique couldn’t bring herself to look away. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for—for somebody to appear? For a car to zoom by? Or maybe it was something more? Something she couldn’t name?

And then she thought she saw something just out of the corner of her eye. Something black? Or was it just dark grey? She turned her head, but there was nothing there. Maybe it was a dog that run away? It was a bit disappointing. She had no idea what she had hoped for, but it certainly wasn’t just more snow and an empty street.

This made her snap out of her reverie and decide to go and have some fun with the snow. She had seen children on TV do all sorts of interesting things with it and she wanted to make her own snowman.

She dressed quickly, as if afraid the snow might disappear while she wasn’t looking at it. Forgetting her scarf, gloves and hat, she dashed out, her face flushed with excitement.

And than she froze, staring at what was standing right in front of her. It was a sleigh. A real horse-drawn sleigh made of beautiful white wood, laden with soft furs. And inside sat the most beautiful woman Monique had ever seen, even if she was white as snow. Oddly enough, she wore only an evening dress made of shimmering pale blue fabric and a diamond tiara.

Monique hadn’t expected that. Her parents did not believe that fairy tales did a child any good and avoided telling any to their daughter. They didn’t let her watch anything too fantastic either. It left her unprepared for encounters such as this.

The woman smiled warmly at Monique with blue lips and extended her hand towards her. The little girl wondered vaguely why all the woman’s make-up was either white or blue. It seemed odd—her mother always wore shades of brown.

Even without the guidance of stories, Monique was guessing this all had to do something with winter.

“Come,” the stranger said in a melodious voice. Monique had never been told of the Snow Queen. She had never listened to the tale of the brave girl, who saved her brother and why he needed saving. She saw no danger and obeyed.

Later, her mother only found her jacket lying in a puddle of melting snow.