The Snowman

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