I blame this post for making me unleash this drabble upon the internet: nipahdubs dot tumblr dot com / post / 70344184141 / i-was-messing-with-this-track-and-made-this-on

Warning: Horror, Implied Character Death

Oh god, why did I even write this? This is proof why I shouldn't write things at 4AM.

Enjoy the nightmare-induced fuel.

Disclaimer: Frozen and its characters belong to Disney.

DO NOT COPY OR DUPLICATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!

Alone in her bedroom, Elsa huddles in a corner farthest from the door. She tightly hugs herself with her eyes squeezed shut.

Don't react. Never respond, the young woman repeats in her head. Don't react. Never respond.

Three short knocks upon her locked door snaps Elsa from her inner mantra. remains stock-still in her corner as a young voice cheerfully calls out her name.

"Elsa~"

No. No. No. No—

"I know you're in there~"

Go away. Go away. Go away.

"Please, Elsa, don't you wanna play with me? We used to be best buddies, remember?"

Elsa lets out a choked sob and prays for morning to hurry.

Twelve years. Twelve years, on the same day every winter, this thing would appear outside her locked room, goading the princess to come out; it never bothers anyone else, only Elsa.

Desperate, the king sought out the trolls' council for a solution. According to the chief, the only way for his daughter to remain safe is to not acknowledge it or invite it inside.

The warding worked as expected, however, the encounters gradually took their toll on Elsa, chipping away at her sanity each year.

Three years ago, her parents, tired of that thing darkening their lives, attempted to get rid of it. The next morning, Elsa found their bloody and mangled bodies frozen to their bed, adorned with gnarled gashes and gnawed limbs and icy spikes jutting from their chests.

"Open the door, Elsa," it says, the joy gone from its voice. "I think some company is overdue."

Elsa shakes her head, clapping her gloved hands over her ears.

"Open up! Open up! Open up! Open up!" it demands over and over until—

"Go away, Anna!" the young woman shouts.

All goes quiet.

Elsa has trouble breathing.

Frost creeps up from under the door, spreading across the intricate wood. The knob rattles and rattles. High-pitched squeals reverberate in the air, mixing with that thing's distorted laughter.

"Come on, Elsa, let's go and play~"

Elsa frightfully stares at her frost-laden door before it splinters into icy pieces.

The moonlight streaming through the large windows illuminates the thing standing in the doorway.

A young girl, no older than five years-old, hobbles into the room. Frost lines her small body, zigzagging across her pallid skin. The green nightgown she dons is in tatters. Her faded auburn hair is streaked in white. Her eyes—bright eyes that once sparkled with happiness and life—are now two sunken black holes. And there, nestled above her right temple, is a large scar with cracks spreading from its center like a spider-web.

In the shadows behind the girl is a horde of mutated snowmen, all screeching the same sentence: I like warm hugs! I like warm hugs!

Chapped lips curl into a manic smile, showing rows of jagged teeth, as the frozen corpse of Princess Anna steps toward her trembling, tear-streaked sister.

"Do you want to build a snowman?"