The Same As Me by Chloe Yang

The Same as Me

By Chloe Yang

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Up the hill, over the hill I roll. I see first clear blue sky, with white fluff above. Then I roll over onto my belly. I see crystal-clear chunks of white in my face, like packed ice, in the same material I am. I roll over, over, and over again, until I stop, very dizzy.

I look down at myself. There is limited space for me, and I soon find out why. I seem to be one shape, a ball, without any space to move.

Light flakes start raining from the sky, coating everything in white. I look up and see bushes and trees, covered in this white flaking that will become something I know to be called snow. The beauty of this white wonderland continues on. I turn my head ever so slightly and catch a surprise. I am not alone! There are other creatures, with two legs, two arms, and lots of colorful pieces of soft material on their bodies. They look so strange, and different from me! I wonder what they are doing here. They do not look like they belong here at all.

Very suddenly, I feel like I am being split into two parts. One is the large snowball I started out as, the other going ba-bump, ba-bump.

I am transforming into a new shape all over again! But why? I feel perfectly happy as the large ball of white crystal that I am. Then I notice something. When I stop rolling, I am slightly smaller than I was, all the while having half of my vision from the view of the large snowball. Why, though, why? What is the meaning of this? That, I find out right now. The smaller part of me feels like being elevated. I am placed onto something else, and my vision is now solid again.

I look down at myself yet again. I am now two times as tall as I was. Now I have even more space for me to look at my habitat.

The trees, which were once barren branches on a trunk, are now coated with white snow leaves, which maintains the theme of this white winter. As I look around, I hear laughter. Suddenly, for the second time, my vision splits, and I know I am split into two parts again.

I am now rolling again. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. As I come to a halt, I see the bottom of the hill. One of those creatures with two legs covered in blue snow pants and a pink coat huffs up the hill. She is wearing a hat, and she has a tiny little pink nose. Light yellow hair is pulled up into two ponytails, one on each side of her head. Now I know where the laughter is coming from.

I return my attention to the smallest part of me yet. This one is even smaller than my second body part.

Once again, I feel the feeling of being lifted into the air and onto myself, and my abrupt return to one point of view. I sit for what seems like ages, with nothing to do, until I finally come to a thought.

I need real eyes! Right after I think this, two dark lumps that I think are called rocks are stuck onto my exact point of view. I can now see in sharp focus, better than I have ever before. I feel another flump and look down to see a smile growing on my face made out of rocks, a happy smile. Next I feel something stuck onto my face yet again. I see a long orange thing protruding where my nose would be.

The snow is falling fast now. I hear a voice saying, “Come in, children, it’s snowing hard now.”

And another higher one, saying, “Wait until we finish our snowman!”

The scene in front of my eyes is now swirling white, but still beautiful. I catch a snowflake on my nose and see it’s delicate pattern. My smile grows even wider.

Crunch. I hear the sound of something being stuck into snow. I feel a sharp pain and wonder what in the winter world is happening. I see a large stick on  the side of my middle body and find I can move it. This will come in useful, I think. The sound crunch comes again, disturbing me from my train of focus. I experience that sharp, burning pain once more. This time, I do not wonder what in the winter world is happening. I know this is another stick, on the other side of my middle body. I can move this stick too.

I feel a gentle brush, and I feel something fit snugly around my head. I see a black brim. “There!” A voice says. “The hat is on!”

I try moving. I hop forward a little bit, and realize I can see more two-legged creatures, looking exactly like the one that was laughing earlier. They are laughing too. Soon, we are all together. I now know that I am not alone anymore. They take me by my sticks, and move their feet in a pattern I hear one call dancing. I try this, too, by hopping in patterns. On and on we dance, until they go somewhere. Soon they will come back, I think. I wait and wait, convinced that my little friends will come to play with me once more, until the next day, I am nothing more than a puddle of water, having lived my happy life as a snowman.

However, I do know I haven’t withered out of existence yet. This feels different than a snowman. I feel loose and ready to move. I look down, as I have done many times as being a snowman, and see a clear, shimmering substance. I am worried, when my little friends come back, that they won’t recognize me.

But now I am getting more and more worried. My friends haven’t come back for so long now! They were always there for me, though I didn’t know that for a large portion of my being as a snowman.

I hear footsteps, and I look up. One of my friends! Their laugh, which I have heard so many times, rings through the air, sharp to my ears. More come, until the air is full of laughter.

Then the splashing starts.

I am tossed around, and, to my pleasure, my little friends seem very, very pleased. They laugh, and shout, and fill the air with rich sounds.

I feel like doing that too, as I leap through the air, filled with glee.

My friends are happy, so I am too, as these creatures who accompanied me about forever happily play with me, in my new existence.

Because on the inside, we are all the same.