By Jon Pluck (@JonPluck)
Helen Stevens was writing her Christmas cards, late again. “They’ll get there just in time,” she told herself, year after year, though this rarely ended up being the case. It wasn’t that she was lazy, or forgetful, but the years since Jim passed away had been hard. It was a struggle, keeping on top of everything. The twins had only been two at the time, and she was worried that soon they wouldn’t remember much about him.
Helen paused, reading the next name on the list. Beatrice Frampton? Must be a friend of Jim’s. Newsletter, photos, random greeting for a faceless name and a, “Best Wishes, Helen, Joe and Sally.” All went into the envelope. She sighed, bored by this ritual after half an hour. The sparkle had gone from the world, the fun, the reason to get up in the morning. There had been plenty of help from friends and family after the accident but as the ripples of that terrible event subsided, people slowly slipped back into their own lives. The warm and heartfelt wishes morphed into what felt now to be little more than pity. “Why won’t she move on?” “Those children need a father in their lives.” “It’s been years.” So easy to judge, she thought, or was she being the bitter, jaded creature they all thought she’d already become? There was a loud giggle, up the garden. Through the window, Helen could see Sally and Joe playing in the snowy yard. “Push!” giggled Joe, bossing Sally about as usual. They had been rolling a snowball around all afternoon and it had grown pretty large, up to their chests. “I’m push-hnnnnf-ing as hard as I can,” Sally replied, but the ball wasn’t going anywhere. “Okay fine. That’ll be his bottom, then.” Sally giggled. Joe stooped to make another giant ball, for the snowman’s middle. Rolling it back up the garden to adjoin with the other, he left a track in the snow, grass poking through. “Help me out, Sally.” She joined his side and together they pushed it up to the middle of the lawn, huffing and puffing. Something rustled. The twins fell quiet, looking first into each other’s eyes then turning as one to the woods at the bottom of the garden. There was something there again, watching. They ran for the back door, screaming, “Mummmmmmmmm!” “What?” Helen shouted, startled, afraid. “Come help us build a snowman!” they cried, tugging at her arms and legs. Aided by a grown-up, they soon had the second ball of snow on top of the first, and with a bit more effort, a third for a head. “This snowman’s going to be the best one ever!” said Joe. “We always have a snowman, why can’t we have a snow woman this time?” asked Sally. Helen nodded sagely. “Good idea, Sally.” Joe pouted, but knew when he was outnumbered. The garage was raided for plastic beach spades, and the snow woman began to take shape. Joe cackled as he gave her extra large ‘bumps’, quickly remodelled by Helen. After a rifle through the dressing up box, a straw hat was also procured, along with a potato sack for a dress, branches for arms, and the ubiquitous carrot and coals, to make up her face. All three then stood back and admired their handiwork. “She’s beautiful,” cooed Sally. Behind them, dark, emotionless eyes stared out from amongst the trees, darker than the two coals. The light was fading now, seeping slowly away this close to midwinter. It was impossible to tell where day ended and night began with the street lights reflecting from the snow. The eyes closed and then there was nothing to see, an empty wood once more. |
“What should we call her?” asked Helen. The children looked perplexed. “I know, let’s google it!” suggested Sally. Back inside, they hunted for the iPad (and then the charger, due to it being flat). After much debate, they settled on Lumi, which was supposedly Finnish for snow. They could just make her out now, halfway up the garden, twinkling with the first dusting of a fresh snow flurry. The children waved. “Let’s get some dinner,” said Helen. “Don’t worry, she’ll still be there in the morning.” Though they didn’t notice, something else was falling from the sky now, drifting onto the carrot-nosed figure and radiating with a faint white light. As each flake landed its brightness faded, creating circular glowing ripples in every direction. The strange flakes continued to fall as the curtains of the house closed one by one. The house and garden were quiet, surrounded by that special, muffled blanket of silence that only snow can bring. Over the next few days, Helen and the children slowly prepared the house for Christmas. All of the old traditional decorations made their way from boxes in the attic and cellar to appear around the house. The tree was decorated. The lights were connected, brightening up the conifers. The snow woman waited patiently at the top of the garden, watching, listening. She would only have one chance. Christmas Eve morning arrived and it was bitter cold, hoar frost turning everything into a sugar coated postcard. Helen and the children went out with the sledge after lunch, up through the woods at the back of the house to Long Hill. After hours of screaming and giggling, the children began to tire, and so did Helen. “Just one more go, Mum... pleaaaase?” Joe and Sally begged. “Go onnnnnn!” “Okay, just one more, but it’s getting dark and you must be cold by now.” The children claimed otherwise. They were too excited to be cold. As the shadows started to lengthen, they finally headed home. One of the dark patches seemed deeper than the rest. Flitting from tree to tree, it followed them haphazardly back to the house. Helen and the children kicked off the snow from their boots. Only yards beyond, the shadows rapidly pooled and began to weave together to form a humanoid shape, a swirling mass with inky black and those dark, emotionless, unblinking eyes. Lumi knew something was happening. Something bad. It would not yet have sensed her arrival, drip-feeding her essence into the world as she had, yet if she were not careful it would notice. She turned her mind inwards, remembering events of so very long ago when the war had been waged openly. Better days or just different? Either way, she would give no quarter when the time came. She packed her senses deeper into the icy form of the snow woman, grasping, feeling and settling, becoming aware of the coldness around her. No time to waste as the shadow advanced. A hollow scream came from inside the house. Lumi concentrated hard, and the snow woman began to move... |