This is the first story on this blog not by me (Rosy)!!!! Yay for thewritestuff! It's really intense and a great story. Just don't read it to late at night...
Things That Go Bump In The Night
Things That Go Bump In The Night
It was a snowstorm. A horrible whirling snowstorm, a mass of white so dense that the darkness of the night stood out like splotches of black ink on a crisp sheet of paper. It was more than snow, it was a creature, a creature with a blank face. It was emotionless, it could kill and destroy.
Any remorse or guilt left on it's conscience would soon disappear into the sheer whiteness, leaving only hatred behind. It had no form, no shape, no boundaries, it was just there, blanketing everything. Some nights it is quiet, silent. We call it peaceful, but we could not be further from the truth. These are the nights that it gradually builds up, not fast enough to cause alarm, but never stopping either. The people that lie in the snow, staring up and the sky to "relax", those are the ones it will take on nights like that. It will slowly wrap it's blank, glazed tendrils around their arms and legs. They dismiss it, reassuring themselves that they are "sinking into the snow". When it becomes uncomfortable, they try to get up, only to find the cannot. They will blame it on sore muscles or drowsiness, never does it once cross their mind they might be in danger. Why would it? That is when the snow makes it's second move, becoming soft, urging them to stay for a little longer. It slowly builds around their mouths, muffling screams that inevitably come once the victims realize what's going on. They struggle, bringing on the final phase of this devious plan. The snowstorm increases whirling screaming, howling, and it is only a matter of minutes until there is nothing left. This is where you came in. Sam McGee lived across the street from the park where the snow claimed yet another, but he was deep in blissful slumber, oblivious to what had happened not 20 meters away. As a resident of Fort Collins, CO, he was used to "bizarre weather patterns" like this and had soundproofed his house long ago. This infuriated the snow. The very thought that someone could sleep through it's powerful wrath enraged the snow. It hurled exuberant amounts of wind and ice at the windows. For better or for worse, Sam was a light sleeper. Tap. Tap. Tap. Sam awoke to a curious sound at the window. He dashed to it, thinking someone might be trapped outside in this dreadful snow. Nothing there. How odd. Suddenly, cleverly giving him no time to react, the snow hurled a mass of sleet and at the window. It bashed through the window, showering Sam with bits of broken glass. For Sam's last few seconds, instead of fear, he felt annoyance. It never crossed his mind that the snow did this on purpose. All he knew was that he was cold, and he would have to buy new window, and take all the glass out of his skin and... The list trailed on. Exasperated and Provoked, he ran and punched the wall near the broken window, ignoring the tendrils of ice spread out from it. Suddenly, ice began traveling down his hand, encasing his body. Using his forward momentum against him, the wind pulled him through the window. Once his frozen body hit the ground, the snow blanketed the ice, and pushed the "snowman" upright. It yanked up dirt and haphazardly blew it onto the head to make a face. Then the storm stopped.
Any remorse or guilt left on it's conscience would soon disappear into the sheer whiteness, leaving only hatred behind. It had no form, no shape, no boundaries, it was just there, blanketing everything. Some nights it is quiet, silent. We call it peaceful, but we could not be further from the truth. These are the nights that it gradually builds up, not fast enough to cause alarm, but never stopping either. The people that lie in the snow, staring up and the sky to "relax", those are the ones it will take on nights like that. It will slowly wrap it's blank, glazed tendrils around their arms and legs. They dismiss it, reassuring themselves that they are "sinking into the snow". When it becomes uncomfortable, they try to get up, only to find the cannot. They will blame it on sore muscles or drowsiness, never does it once cross their mind they might be in danger. Why would it? That is when the snow makes it's second move, becoming soft, urging them to stay for a little longer. It slowly builds around their mouths, muffling screams that inevitably come once the victims realize what's going on. They struggle, bringing on the final phase of this devious plan. The snowstorm increases whirling screaming, howling, and it is only a matter of minutes until there is nothing left. This is where you came in. Sam McGee lived across the street from the park where the snow claimed yet another, but he was deep in blissful slumber, oblivious to what had happened not 20 meters away. As a resident of Fort Collins, CO, he was used to "bizarre weather patterns" like this and had soundproofed his house long ago. This infuriated the snow. The very thought that someone could sleep through it's powerful wrath enraged the snow. It hurled exuberant amounts of wind and ice at the windows. For better or for worse, Sam was a light sleeper. Tap. Tap. Tap. Sam awoke to a curious sound at the window. He dashed to it, thinking someone might be trapped outside in this dreadful snow. Nothing there. How odd. Suddenly, cleverly giving him no time to react, the snow hurled a mass of sleet and at the window. It bashed through the window, showering Sam with bits of broken glass. For Sam's last few seconds, instead of fear, he felt annoyance. It never crossed his mind that the snow did this on purpose. All he knew was that he was cold, and he would have to buy new window, and take all the glass out of his skin and... The list trailed on. Exasperated and Provoked, he ran and punched the wall near the broken window, ignoring the tendrils of ice spread out from it. Suddenly, ice began traveling down his hand, encasing his body. Using his forward momentum against him, the wind pulled him through the window. Once his frozen body hit the ground, the snow blanketed the ice, and pushed the "snowman" upright. It yanked up dirt and haphazardly blew it onto the head to make a face. Then the storm stopped.
...
The next morning, Sam's Neighbor's rowdy sons came over. "Hey, freaky blizzard last night, huh, Mr. McGee?"
"Hey, where'd he go?"
"I don't know, but look at that snow sculpture he made!"
"Wow, look's just like him!" After a while, they finally went inside the house. When they entered his room, it looked just like it had when Sam went to bed last night, no snow and an unbroken window. "He probably went on vacation last night."
"Yeah, probably." Outside, the snowman's expression contorted into a sinister grin, but the man frozen inside was locked in an eternal scream that was never heard.
"Hey, where'd he go?"
"I don't know, but look at that snow sculpture he made!"
"Wow, look's just like him!" After a while, they finally went inside the house. When they entered his room, it looked just like it had when Sam went to bed last night, no snow and an unbroken window. "He probably went on vacation last night."
"Yeah, probably." Outside, the snowman's expression contorted into a sinister grin, but the man frozen inside was locked in an eternal scream that was never heard.
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