Frozen in Suspense

It was the scream that made her remember.  She hadn’t meant to forget, but the whole thing had happened in the dead of winter, so what else was she supposed to do?

Another bone chilling scream came from the other room and she remembered that it had happened the winter before last, too.  The goosebumps of surprise on her skin took her back to the day it had happened – well, days it had happened, as they had really both died in similar ways, hadn’t they? She could remember the twisted limbs, the blood and hair stuck to the bars of the cage she had kept first one and then the other in for months.  The shock of finding each one gone so soon, before she could really have some fun with them.

With a sigh of regret, she got up off the couch and went to the kitchen to face the music.

“Calm down, Mum,” she said from the doorway.  Her mother was hyperventilating by the dishwasher, forgotten trays of freezer-burnt meat piled in the sink beside her, already wearing frosty fur-coats in the humid summer air.

“Why are there two dead bodies in my freezer?”, her mother exclaimed between wheezes.

“Well,” she said, “I couldn’t bury them in January, could I?” She reached into the back of the freezer and picked up the two Ziploc bags.

“Well, you get those hamsters out of my kitchen this minute! Out to the back garden with you and bury them deep enough that the cat can’t get to them again.”

“Yes, Mum,” she said, heading for the screen door.  “Sheesh, you’d think I’d stored a human head in there or something…”

A new start…to whet your whistles…not sure where this one is going yet…

The winter twilight had painted the snowy hills a murky mauve. The wind rustled through the branches of the pines. Across the highway, a lone Christmas tree gleamed, the only colour left in the darkening world.

Grace stood panting at the top of the hill, sled in hand. Her brother and sister had abandoned her out here in the cold and had gone back inside, lured by the smell of the turkey dinner. Her mother had not yet come out to collect her. She probably hasn’t even noticed, she thought. I’m always the last one she thinks of.

Tired, she flopped to her knees in the snow and absently sucked on the little snowballs stuck to her mittens. She’d wanted her siblings to help her build a ramp for the sled. It was perfect packing snow and she was sure that with the right momentum and angle of approach they could get some serious air. I wonder, she thought, what would happen if I never went back inside? I wouldn’t get to open my gifts…but then, they’re probably all socks anyway. She doubted her parents were going to give her the chemistry set she’d asked for. Little girls aren’t supposed to play with acid, her father kept telling her. Sheesh. How was she supposed to prove her theories without the right equipment?

Red Plastic Skis of Doom

The yard stretched out before me, a barren wasteland of snow and ice. Shadows were gathering in the late afternoon gloaming beneath low grey clouds laden with snow. Tears freezing on my cheeks, I let out another wail.

“Mummy!”

No good. I could see the flickering of the TV in the living room and knew that Daddy was watching Buck Rogers from his yellow recliner. I couldn’t see her, but figured that Mummy must be upstairs with the baby. They were all warm and dry inside and couldn’t hear me.