The only sound was sweet hymns on the radio. Mum opened the door. The hall was empty apart from a postcard floating in a puddle.
'You did it!' Mum hugged her tight. 'The fire you conjured melted the frost giant. Now, where's the mop?'
Ella lifted the postcard. It read: Well done.
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Ella struggled towards the glowing hearth. As she neared her limbs became lighter and ice melted into puddles. The door flew open. Ella screamed. The monstrous ice creature grinned, exposing glassy teeth.
'Postcard,' mum whispered, her face blue. 'Burn.'
Ella threw it on the fire.
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'Who's coming?'
'The Ice King.'
Ella frowned, remembering bedtime stories about an ice king who wanted eternal winter and the witch who'd stopped him. 'But he's not real.'
'Yes, he is. Where else would snow come from? We need to find the witch before he arrives.'
The doorbell rang.
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'An old friend,' her mother said, swiping away the tears. 'Now, I think it's time for a homemade mince pie.' She headed to the kitchen, the card falling from her fingers into the bin. Ella snatched it up. The postmark was from a village not five minutes away. She grabbed her coat.
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Ava frowned at the unfamiliar handwriting then flipped it over. The front was a jumble of reds and greens, like the abstract art in her father's studio. His voice echoed in her head: To truly see a painting, unfocus your eyes. She stared until her eyes watered. Then she understood.
#5ActFestiveStory