The Tales of the White Witch
In a land where winter’s embrace lasts forever, where snowflakes carry secrets and frost paints the world with wonder, there lives a figure of enchantment and kindness: the White Witch. Her magic isn’t the kind that frightens or harms—it’s a power that brings joy, hope, and lessons for young hearts.
The Tales of the White Witch is a collection of stories about friendship, courage, and the magical surprises hidden in the snow. Each tale invites you into a world where snowmen come to life, frost foxes play, and glowing icicles light the darkest nights. Through her adventures, the White Witch shows us that magic isn’t just about spells and power—it’s about helping others, embracing imagination, and finding strength in unexpected places.
So bundle up, grab a warm cup of cocoa, and step into this frosty world of wonder. Whether you’re sliding down an ice carousel, chasing a magical snowflake, or listening to the whispers of a frozen forest, these tales will fill your heart with the warmth of winter magic.
The White Witch is waiting to take you on an unforgettable journey. Let the snow begin to fall, and let the stories unfold.
Chapter 1: The Day the Snowflakes Sang
The village of Winterhaven was nestled in a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains. Its rooftops were always dusted with snow, and the air smelled crisp and clean. For as long as anyone could remember, snow had been a constant companion. The children of Winterhaven adored it—they built snowmen, had snowball fights, and spent hours sledding down the icy hills. But there was one secret about the snow that none of them knew.
Snowflakes could sing.
It wasn’t until the White Witch visited their village that the children discovered the melodies hidden within each flake.
The White Witch arrived on a blustery morning, her cloak of shimmering frost trailing behind her like a silvery cloud. The villagers watched in awe as she stepped lightly through the snow, her boots leaving no footprints. She carried a staff of ice, and her hair shimmered like fresh snow under the pale winter sun.
Children peeked out from behind windows, their breath fogging the glass. One brave boy, Tomas, was the first to rush outside. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his woollen hat sat askew on his head.
Are you the White Witch?
Tomas asked, his voice quivering with both excitement and curiosity.
The White Witch knelt so her eyes were level with his. I am,
she said with a warm smile. And who might you be?
Tomas,
he replied, puffing out his chest. What brings you to Winterhaven?
I’m here to share a secret about the snow,
the White Witch said, her voice soft but full of wonder.
By now, more children had gathered, their curiosity overcoming their shyness. They whispered among themselves, their eyes wide as they watched the witch.
What kind of secret?
asked a girl named Ella, her pigtails bouncing as she spoke.
The White Witch stood and spread her arms, her cloak shimmering. Have you ever listened closely to the snowflakes as they fall?
The children exchanged puzzled looks. Snowflakes weren’t something you listened to—they were something you caught on your tongue or used to make snowballs.
No,
Tomas said, speaking for the group. Snowflakes don’t make any sound.
The White Witch chuckled. That’s what most people think. But snowflakes are magical. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear them sing.
The children gasped, their faces lighting up with excitement.
Can you teach us how to hear them?
Ella asked eagerly.
The White Witch nodded. But it will take patience and quiet hearts. Will you try?
The children nodded enthusiastically, crowding closer around her.
The White Witch led the children to a quiet clearing at the edge of the forest, where the snow was untouched and the wind whispered softly through the trees. She knelt in the snow and gestured for the children to sit in a circle around her.
Close your eyes,
she instructed. Breathe in deeply and let the cold air fill your lungs. Feel the snow beneath you, the frost in the air.
The children did as they were told, though a few peeked out from under their lashes, giggling nervously. The White Witch smiled but didn’t scold them.
Now,
she continued, listen. The snowflakes are falling all around you. They’re singing, but their voices are very soft. You must be still to hear them.
The children fell silent, their breaths puffing out in tiny clouds. The only sound was the gentle rustle of the wind in the trees.
At first, they heard nothing. But then, faintly, like the tinkling of tiny bells, a melody began to weave through the air. It was delicate and light, rising and falling with the wind.
I hear it!
Tomas whispered, his eyes snapping open. It’s like music!
The other children gasped as they, too, began to hear the snowflakes’ song. It was unlike anything they had ever heard—soft and magical, full of joy and wonder. Each snowflake seemed to carry its own note, and together they created a symphony of winter.
As the children listened, the White Witch smiled. The snowflakes are happy today,
she said. They sing of joy and playfulness because they can see your wonder.
Do they always sing?
Ella asked, her voice hushed with awe.
Not always,
the White Witch replied. Sometimes their songs are quiet, like a whisper, and sometimes they are sad. Snowflakes reflect the world around them. When there is joy, their songs are bright. When there is sorrow, their songs grow softer.
The children thought about this in silence, listening as the snowflakes’ melody filled the clearing. The White Witch waved her hand, and a flurry of snowflakes rose into the air, swirling around the children in a sparkling dance.
Each snowflake is unique,
the White Witch said. And each one has its own voice. Together, they create something beautiful—just like all of you.
For hours, the children stayed in the clearing, marveling at the songs of the snowflakes. The White Witch taught them to hold out their hands and feel the magic in each flake as it melted against their skin. She showed them how to make snow sculptures that seemed to hum with quiet music and how to whistle along with the wind to join the snowflakes’ symphony.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, the children reluctantly made their way back to the village. Their parents greeted them with curious looks, wondering what had kept them away for so long.
The snowflakes sing!
Tomas exclaimed, his face glowing with excitement.
They have their own music!
Ella added, spinning in the snow. You just have to listen!
The villagers chuckled, thinking the children’s imaginations had run wild. But when they looked toward the clearing, they saw the faint glow of the White Witch’s magic, and for a moment, they, too, thought they heard the faint tinkling of bells.
That night, as the children lay in bed, they listened to the snow falling outside their windows. The songs of the snowflakes were softer now, a lullaby that carried them into dreams of frosty wonderlands and magical melodies.
And though the White Witch left Winterhaven the next morning, her lesson stayed with the children forever. Whenever the snow fell, they would pause to listen, knowing that magic was all around them, waiting to be heard.
The White Witch had shared her secret, and Winterhaven would never see the snow the same way again.
Chapter 2: The Missing Snowman
Winterhaven was blanketed in fresh snow, and the village children were hard at work building the grandest snowman they had ever imagined. They rolled huge snowballs through the open square, stacking them carefully to form a towering figure. With coal for eyes, a carrot for a nose, and a scarf borrowed from Ella’s father, the snowman stood proudly in the center of the square.
Let’s call him Frosty Fred!
Tomas declared, stepping back to admire their work.
Fred?
Ella wrinkled her nose. That’s not a very magical name.
Well, he’s our snowman,
Tomas replied, puffing out his chest. And he looks like a Fred.
The children laughed and argued good-naturedly about the name, adding finishing touches to the snowman. But as the sun set and their parents called them home, the snowman was left alone in the square, standing watch under the starry winter sky.
The next morning, the square was eerily empty.
Where’s the snowman?
Ella cried, running into the square with Tomas close behind.
The spot where Frosty Fred had stood was nothing but a patch of disturbed snow. Long, uneven footprints led away from the square, heading toward the forest at the edge of the village.
He... he walked away?
Tomas stammered, his eyes wide.
That’s impossible!
Ella said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.
The children stared at the tracks, their breath misting in the cold air. The footprints were large and frosty, as if the snowman himself had come to life and wandered off during the night.
Word of the missing snowman quickly spread, and soon a small group of children had gathered in the square, buzzing with excitement and nervous curiosity.
Do you think it’s magic?
one of them whispered.
Maybe the snowman didn’t like his name!
another suggested, glaring at Tomas.
Ella crossed her arms. We need to find him. If he’s alive, he might be scared or lost.
But how do we follow him into the forest?
Tomas asked, eyeing the dark tree line nervously. What if it’s dangerous?
Before anyone could answer, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the square. The White Witch, her shimmering cloak trailing behind her, approached with a warm smile.
I hear your snowman has wandered off,
she said, her voice light with amusement.
The children nodded eagerly, gathering around her.
"Can you help us
