It was Christmas Eve when I first saw them. Night had come and blanketed our home in comforting darkness, but the moon still brightly illuminated the fragile flakes that drifted from the sky and coated the ground. Mama always told us to keep the blinds closed when it snowed. She said there were things out there, dark things, that would try to trick us. But it was Christmas Eve and I was so consumed by my childish jubilation that I decided, just this once, it was okay if I didn’t listen to Mama.
I sat cross-legged on the top bunk, my sister sound asleep below. I could hear her rhythmic breathing, almost synching with the slow descent of the snowflakes. I kept my eyes glued to the inky sky, following the trails of white that rose ever higher hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh. The snow was mesmerizing, swirling and dancing like the ballet performers that were so common around that time of year. I caught myself more than once drifting off into the sweet embrace of slumber, but I shook myself awake and clung hard to my goal of catching Santa. I was already seven years old and I knew Santa wouldn’t be coming around forever. This was my only chance, so I grit my teeth and hardened my resolve to stand guard all night long.
When the first few showed themselves, it was only in faint whispers and brief glimpses out of the corner of my eyes. They darted from tree to tree, their form fading into the blackness beyond the small clearing of forest our house sat on. They sang to me, voices so melodic that they tickled my ears.
“Come play with us come play with us come play with us”
I couldn’t tell if it was a singular voice or many. Their soft ministrations hung in the air like the snowflakes that dotted the night sky. Before I made a conscious decision, I felt my body moving. It felt like threads had tethered to my limbs and moved me like a marionette as I climbed down the wooden ladder and creaked open my bedroom door.
The house was dark and silent save for the low hum of appliances that is always present in modern homes. My parents had long since gone to bed, probably being cradled to sleep by their own dreams of child-like whimsy and the thought of me and my sister’s faces as we beheld the tree on Christmas morning.
“Come quickly,” the voices beckoned me. Their sound was growing high and frantic as I tiptoed through the house. A sense of urgency bloomed in my chest, pushing me forward. When I got to the front door, I reached out blindly towards the floor feeling for my winter boots. “No time! No time!” the voices hissed. They were closer now, like someone was whispering directly into my ear. I gasped but quickly covered my mouth to stifle the noise.
“I have to go. I have to hurry. There’s no time,” I thought to myself as I stood on my tippy toes to unlock the deadbolt and free the chain from the door. I didn’t hesitate as I turned the knob, the howling wind lending me the strength I needed to swing the door open.
The cold was biting, and I hissed when my bare feet made contact with the freezing snow. I sunk ankle deep, the wind lifting and tugging my night dress to expose more of my flesh to the freezing night. I thought briefly about retreating into the warmth of my bed, but as soon as the thought entered my head I felt like the marionette threads had been yanked, pulling me forward and matching me towards the tree line.
“She’s here! She’s here!” The voices cheered, their euphoria carrying through the silence of the night. I felt myself smile through chattering teeth. How special am I to bring such joy to others, I thought. The snow crunched under my feet and every hair on my body stood tall in protest of the cold, but I ignored it. The voices got louder and more manic the further I walked, cheering me on and showering me with praise. Yes, I felt like a very special little girl indeed, like Alice in Wonderland or Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Perhaps this was my present from Santa; my very own adventure filled with magic and mystery.
I beamed as I crossed the threshold of trees that made up the boundary of my yard. It was dark, the moon obscured by the thick forest canopy, but my eyes adjusted quickly. What little light there was reflected off the swirling snow, and soon shapes began to appear.
Snowflakes danced and swayed together. At first, they were fleeting and quickly shifted out of focus, but eventually, I was surrounded by bright, sparkling figures. Their long limbs and flowing hair moved gracefully as they formed a circle around me and danced, each one twirling and swaying to some unheard beat. The snow that trailed behind them as they moved gave them a ghostly figure. They were so beautiful in an almost haunting way. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. I was filled with awe at the way they moved so fluidly around me like I was their sun and they were my planets.
I stood in the center and watched as these ethereal beings put on a show just for me. Their movements were so smooth that they could have been blown with the wind. As they moved closer, closing in on me slowly, so slowly I didn’t even notice at first, I began to make out features across their snow-white faces. Large smiles and pointed teeth that at first glance looked menacing, but quickly became mesmerizing as they continued to dance. They had large milky white orbs that shone like the moon as eyes and they took up most of the upper portion of their face. They didn’t blink, instead keeping their eyes wide and glued to me. Even as they danced and twirled, their faces always pointed in my direction, sometimes even turning at unnatural angles to meet my gaze.
The cold seemed to vanish as they moved ever closer to me, and eventually, the voices began to sing. I looked at the figures, but none of their mouths moved. The songs seemed to be coming from all around me, inside me even, surrounding me with an orchestra of voices singing in a language I could not understand. Even without understanding the words, I was filled with a sense of welcome and belonging. Whoever they were, they were overjoyed at my presence. I giggled as I tried to hum along with the tune, never able to keep pace with the winding melody.
I felt the marionette strings tighten around my limbs and I started to dance along with them. I twirled in the snow, watching as my night dress flared out around me like a ball gown. My toes were pink from the cold, and if I squinted, I could pretend they were ruby slippers.
“Join us, join us, join us,” the words repeated in the back of my mind.
The figures moved closer and closer, their long limbs and snowy bodies enveloping me. I felt safe, surrounded by sparkling eyes and unnaturally wide smiles. I stretched my arms out, inviting the figure to embrace me, make me one with them.
This is where I belonged.
Their touch was like fire. Long, claw-like fingers dig into my skin sending pinpricks of pain shooting through my body. I opened my mouth to scream, but as soon as I did, my mouth was filled with snow. I choked and gagged, but every attempt to clear my mouth and nostrils was met with another wave of snow. The wind whipped violently, sending snow across my face like razor blades.
A gunshot sounded, the blast loud enough to cut through the wind, and then everything was still. In an instant, the night became unnaturally quiet. I found myself on the ground partially buried in the snow and quickly began to clear my face. I coughed and cleared my eyes before sitting up. The cold had returned and I felt like my bones had been turned to ice. I shivered so violently that it was hard to make my eyes focus, but when I looked around, the ethereal figures I’d been so mesmerized by were gone. I felt a pang of sadness shoot through my chest like I had just missed out on something extraordinary, but it was quickly replaced by terror.
In the figures’ place stood rotting corpses, their skin sloughing off their bodies in big grey chunks revealing white bone underneath. The skin that still clung stubbornly to their bones was puckered and covered in yellow blisters. The tips of their fingers and ears were black with frostbite, and their noses were nothing more than cavernous holes in the center of their faces. The snow was dotted with spots of blood and decay. I gagged at the sickly scent of rotting flesh. My eyes darted around me as I realized that I was surrounded. There was no escape.
Their hollow faces were turned away from me, peering beyond the tree line with expressions ranging from curious to annoyed. One took a step forward in the direction the gunshot had sounded, and their movement was followed by the sound of a shotgun being cocked.
“You can’t have her.” It was Mama’s voice, but different. It was low and commanding in a way I had never heard her speak.
The corpses shuffled and groaned in place, some turning to look back at me. Mama spoke again, her voice louder this time. “You can have me instead, but I sure as hell ain’t going down without a fight!”
Hisses and screeches pieced through the quiet. In an instant, the wind picked up and howled louder than I had ever heard before. It was deafening, but somehow through the noise, I heard another gunshot ring out. I tried to run, but everything was white. I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face and panic began to set in. I felt my heart hammering against my rib cage as I gasped for air, inhaling mouthfuls of snow again. Another gunshot rang out, and my vision began to spot. I fell to my knees and cried.
When I woke up in the hospital three days later, daddy told me I’d been hallucinating from hypothermia. He also told me Mama had packed up and moved to Arkansas to be with her family. He said she couldn’t handle the pressure of my near death and decided it was best if she left, but I know that’s not true…
Especially because she still visits me on the coldest nights of the year. I never knew Mama could dance, but she sure is pretty when she does.