Alan Fredericks was a New England teacher, a single
parent who had custody of his three daughters, Ella, Greta,
and Jan, who he loved dearly but feared the day that they
would be the spitting image of their mother.
Not unlike New England, there was so much
snow towards the end of the school year that the schools
had no choice but to close down the schools a week
early. The kids were excited, till they groaned when
all teachers gave their kids homework to do during
the holidays.
Alan Fredericks had to do the same thing
to his students, but his daughters went to a different
school. Ella was in sixth grade, Greta in third, and
Jan in first.
So Alan Fredericks had taken his kids to
a cabin in the Vermont woods, a little hole in the
wall that was better used for summer. He’d never
been there in winter, and didn’t realize he wasn’t
prepared for staying.
When they all got there, Alan was chopping
down wood for the fireplace, and it was snowing
out, and the girls built a snowman. They were very
careful and artistic, making the balls a perfect
foundation, with thick packed precision, and a spare
hat from their dad.
Two pieces of charcoal completed
the eyes, and a carrot for the nose.
It was cold that night, but surprisingly,
the next day was hot, what they liked to call
a global warming winter, and all the snow
melted, but they were shocked to see the
snowman had not melted, remaining intact.
“That snowman is creepy,” Jan said.
“Nonsense, girls! It’s a sign we are
blessed, God has preserved your snowman!
But the next day, not only had it got hotter,
but the snowman had mysteriously moved four
feet closer to the cabin!
“Dad, we have to destroy it! It’s evil!”
one of the girls said.
“Nonsense! Someone played a practical
joke on us and moved it! Don’t be superstitious!”
But the next night, they were all gathered
around the fireplace, and Jan looked out the
window and screamed.
“Daddyy! The snowman was looking through
the window!”
Suddenly the snowman appeared in the
doorway, and in the branches sticking out, his
hands, was Alan’s hatchet, and he was moving
towards the family!
The kids screamed, and ran to the back
of the cabin. The snowman moved towards
Alan with the hatchet. Alan grabbed the tool
he was using in the fireplace, got it good and
hot, and stabbed the snowman, till the heat
made the snowman melt, and his wicked
snow gathered on the cabin floor.
“The snowman is dead, girls!” Alan
shouted. “Stay in your room, I’m going
to dump this snow in the lake!”
So Alan got a wagon and put all the
cursed snow into the wagon, and dumped
it into the lake, where he assumed it
dissolved.
“Kids, it’s safe to come out. I
killed the snowman.”
“Daddy, we want to go home!” the kids cried.
“Well, can’t we wait till the morning?” Alan suggested.
“No, this place is haunted! Let’s get out of here,
and never come back!” they screamed.
“Okay, you’re right! Girls, pack up,
and I’ll pack the car! We’ll leave as soon as we can!”
Within an hour, the car was packed, and they
drove off late at night. The girls hid under their blankets
in the car, and before you knew it, they were sleeping
peacefully, heads full of dreams of Christmas
pleasantries.
A day later and the icy cold snow came down hard.
The lake froze, and the ice was hard.
Another family, what would’ve been nearby
neighbors to Alan, the Handle’s, came to the cabin
next door.
They were all tired,-
and they were sleeping in late. But little
Veronica Handle, decided to venture out on
her own and go sledding on the ice pond
without her parent’s permission. (She
was only four years old.)
She slid her sled out on the ice, which
is not something an unsupervised four year
old should do. Suddenly she looked down.
The ice was thick, but crystal clear,
and there was a layer of freezing water down
below. She thought she saw a monster underwater,
that looked like an evil snowman trapped under ice!
She screamed and jumped off the sled,
and raced for the cabin, leaving the sled on the
ice.
She ran in the cabin, and everybody
was sound asleep.
Screaming, she shouted, “There is
a monster in the lake!”
Her dad groaned, and rolled over
and went back to sleep, till his wife woke
up and told him to protect his daughter
and see what it was.
Being an outdoorsman, he packed
his rifle, he hoped to do some hunting
while they were there.
As they approached the ice, the sled
was gone.
They got closer, and there was a hole
in the ice, as if the sled sank. “Hold my
hand,” the father said.
Suddenly the snowman climbed out
of the hole in the ice, and he was completely
reformed the way he once was.
“What the hell?” the father said,
but when his daughter started screaming,
he let go of her hand and loaded up his
rifle. He was an excellent marksman,
two tours of Afghanistan.
Without hesitation, he shot as many
rounds into the snowman as possible.
He spent all the bullets in the rifle,
and the snowman oozed back under the water.
“I don’t know what the devil that thing
was,” said the father, “but we’re getting the
hell out of here!”
At first his wife thought he was
having flashbacks, but their daughter wanted to
go home, so they did.
Eventually, the legend of the evil snowman
became popular, and nobody visited that neck of
the woods. After all, that’s the way the snowman
wanted it. Except for summer, when the demon of
the woods took on different forms. But that’s a
summer story to be shared at camp, kiddies!
By Mark Hudson
