Short Story |
Snowmen By Benjamin Thierfelder Jessie loved the snow. Every time it snowed, she would burst out the front door and dance around, holding her arms out wide while sticking her tongue out to catch snowflakes. The precocious ten-year old would run around in circles until she tired herself out. Breathing hard, she would then fall backwards and make snow angels. If she had enough energy leftover, she would roll and pack snow into big round balls and make snowmen. They weren’t the best snowmen; their smiles were always crooked and their black coal eyes misplaced, with one noticeably higher on the snowman’s head than the other. Still, they were hers, and she loved them nonetheless. One dark, cold night Jessie decided to make a snowman. It was late March but winter refused to loosen its icy grip on Flint, Michigan. Snow still covered the ground, saturating every inch of every surface in the street she lived on. Crime and poverty plagued her neighborhood so her parents only let her play in the backyard. It was ridiculous to believe the flimsy, warped chain-link fence that separated their yard from the rest of the neighborhood offered her any real protection from the desperation of the streets, but they let out her out nonetheless. Jessie stepped outside and glanced around. It was very dark with not a star in the sky. Dusty yellow vapor-lights flooded in from the front yard, painting the faded white walls a dirty brown color. Black electric lines cast shadows against the purple-colored snow, and the dull metal fence glinted in the moonlight. She breathed in, her chipmunk cheeks swelling, and then breathed out a long, cloudy wisp of smoke. The warm air fogged her glasses and she giggled and wiped them clean. She looked past her yard at the long stretch of naked trees; a small wooded area in the city that many in the neighborhood said was haunted. In fact, as the rumors go, some people who enter are never seen from again. She went to work building her snowman, rolling the first piece into a big lop- sided ball then made a smaller one for the torso and the head. She dug her pudgy fingers into the snow and fetched out two sticks for arms and then a handful of dirty rocks for its eyes, nose and mouth. Excited to see her work, she leapt backwards, her arms pin-wheeling as she fell onto her bottom. Jessie let out a huff and looked up at her snowman. It loomed like a crooked building, every imperfection glaring in the moonlight. She jumped up and but her hands on her hips, then kicked the snowman over. “Why can’t I make a good snowman?” Jessie huffed then looked over at the tall, looming wooden fence posts that divided her yard from her neighbors. “Like him.” Jessie crept over to the fence and peered through a small hole at the bottom of the fence. She sucked in her breath as she saw them; six perfectly shaped snowmen piled in his dark, dirty and otherwise unremarkable backyard. They were immaculate; completely round and smooth, the coal eyes, mouth and nose were lined seamlessly next to one another. Each arm was covered by a coat and each hand had a glove on each end so they looked real. “How does he do it?” she asked herself, thoughtfully putting one finger on her lips. She looked back at her house and saw the window in the kitchen was empty. Her mother was done with the dishes. Jessie looked nervously at the yard again, her heart pounding in her chest. Her momma always told her not to go into that man’s yard. He was a strange fellow who always kept to himself. She wanted to see the snowmen up close, though. Find out his secret. Even though she was scared she had to find out how he did it. Jessie sucked in her breath and stepped through the hole under the fence and into his yard. His yard seemed darker and colder than hers. Jessie felt herself step on many slippery, squishy things but was too afraid to look down and see what they were. She kept her eyes on the nearest snowman, or snowwoman; somehow he managed to shape its torso and its face in just a way that Jessie could tell it was a girl. “Wow.” Jessie mouthed. “How does he do it?” Jessie reached up and touched the arm, which felt solid yet soft under the black hooded sleeve. “It feels real.” She ran her fingers up to the brown leather glove over the hand. It felt real. Too real. “No way.” She said to herself, giving it a solid squeeze. “This can’t be.” She looked back at his house, which seemed dark and empty. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached up pinched one of the fingers and tugged it off. Jessie screamed and fell backwards, staring up in horror. It was a hand; a pale, thin woman’s hand sticking out the side of the snowman. The flesh under the nails looked blue and a silver ring glinted in the moonlight. Jessie scuttled backwards and bumped into something hard. She looked up and saw a heavy leather boot and black snow pants standing right behind her. The rest of the man was covered in shadows. Jessie screamed and lunged forward, barely dodging a gloved hand from reaching down and grabbing her. She clipped the snowwoman with her shoulder and tumbled to the ground with it, white powdery snow spraying everywhere. Jessie screamed as a blond woman’s head and legs and arms rolled out from the snow, her pale white eyes staring up at her with an expression of horror. Jessie vaulted to her feet and dodged another grab from the man, bursting through the gate at the back of his house. The tall and silent forest towered above, and out of instinct, she ran toward them. Jessie screamed as the dark, dead trees whizzed by in a single blur of black and gray. The snow was hard and slippery, and Jessie fell forward and landed hard on her knees before leaping to her feet again. The man was always just behind her, his heavy boots crunching through the snow. She ran and ran until she came to a thick line of trees and saw several deep dark holes in the ground. She skidded to a stop just before one of them. “Oh my God that was clos…” she began until a hard shove from behind sent her tumbling into a pit. It was cold and dark, and the frozen dirt was hard as rock. She hit the bottom with a hard thud and cried out. Her glasses flew off and landed in a big pile of snow. She patted for them, trying to find them when a long shadow fell over her. She looked up and saw the man silhouetted against the black night sky, a pale white halo of moonlight glowing around him. “What’s happening? Why you doing this?” she asked. The silhouette made a quick, jerky motion and she felt a rush of ice cold snow punch her in the face. “I want them to be real.” said the man. His voice was high and gentle. Another patch of snow hit her in the face. “My children are just bits of snow and coal. They have a body but they lack a soul!” “I- I- I don’t get-get it-i…” Jessie said through tears of terror. More and more snow fell upon her, covering her up to her neck. She stuck her arms up toward him, reaching. “You’re not like me. You’re not alone.” The snow reached up to her mouth. “They walk past me. Like I’m not even there. They just ignore me. They don’t even care.” The snow was up her eyes, which ached from the cold. She couldn’t even scream anymore. “They’re mostly hollow on the inside, just like ice and snow. They may be empty but at least they have a soul. By bits and pieces my children grow and grow. As long as I have my family I’m never alone.” Jessie cried out one last time as snow filled her mouth until, finally, everything turned white. ***************************************************** Hours later police arrived at Jessie’s house and looked around the neighborhood for the missing girl. No one reported seeing her but some remember a girl screaming somewhere in the woods. They searched every corner and every house. They searched the woods last and found nothing but cold, empty pits. As her mother cried frantically and her father stared numbly out the window, the police even searched their neighbor’s yard. All they found was six snowmen. Five were regular sized and a sixth was small. It was perfectly shaped and had big puffy snow cheeks and, over its little eyes, there was a pair of dark rimmed glasses. |
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About Benjamin Thierfelder My name is Benjamin Thierfelder and I am a Detroit-area writer of novels, short stories, screenplays and videogame scripts. I recently graduated from U of M- Dearborn with honors with a degree in Communications, a broader Journalistic concentration. I also worked for Schoolcraft College’s Connection paper as the Arts and Entertainment Editor where my editorial, Sea Kittens? Seriously?, earned third place for Best Editorial by the Michigan Press Association (MPA). Recently, your very own Blood Moon Rising magazine decided to publish my short story Heaven in their January 2014 edition of your online magazine. |