Snowpocalypse.

December 26, 2012

I originally wrote this story for DeadlyEverAfter(.com) but there were so many stories that Christmas fell one day short… I tried to bargain them into delaying the holidays globally but President Obama, President Hollande, Bundeskanzlerin Merkel nor Prime-Minister Cameron wrote me back… So…

Anywhere, here it is! A bit delayed, a bit lonely and a bit cold. Will you give it some love?

Enjoy.

I bet you think that snowmen are happy balls of snow, right? Meant for your viewing pleasures and for kids to play with? How wrong you are.
These cold, man shaped misfits from hell are nothing but evil, encapsulated souls in waiting. Waiting for that one moment, that perfect opportunity, to come after you and your entire family.
You’re probably wondering if I’m psychotic or schizophrenic, I’m not. Frantic? Yes. Crazy? No.
Let me tell you a story and perhaps you will change your mind. Before it’s too late.

The day before Christmas, 1986. We lived in Sammamish, WA – a sleepy suburb of Seattle, in an all too average American middle class house. Hypocrisy and smugness ruled these streets even more than it already does all through out our “Great, great Nation”.
Seattle was for hippies and the unlucky few that worked at Starbucks, hardly an excuse for a job. No, at fine Sammamish and Redmond we worked for Boeing or Microsoft, we were fine upstanding folk in our own little, isolated enclave. Well we sure paid the price.

I had just bought cake mix and raisins for my mother, my father who was an engineer at Microsoft had failed at buying anything properly from the list my mother had made, it had been a long walk for me. In fact the walk had been so long that my shawl had frozen partially onto my face, my red ski jacket was white with snow and my feet were wet from ice that had melted in my boots.
Still nasty, little Billy Niedermeyer managed to recognize me from across the street of his run down family home, he ran at me like a wild dog and pushed me into the snow. He always did that, his overweight served him well in that regard, I had somewhat grown accustom to it. His greasy skin, beady eyes and even redder than usual due to cold he sat on top of me, panting like a dog.
“What are you doing here, Perdeaux!?” He growled, wiping half-frozen snot from his lip.
“I-I’m just bringing home some groceries for my mom, B-Billy…” I stuttered.
“Yeah?! What’s your mom making, stupid!?”
“…Cake?”
“You like cake!?” He growled angrily, “What do you like about cake!?”
“It’s warm…?” I said uncertain where he was going with this, it riled him up even more.
“This is what I think of your warm cake!” He screeched, slamming a hand full of snow and mucus into my face, grabbing something from his pocket.
As I spat out the snow, the taste of his snot in my mouth, I saw what he was pulling out. A can of deodorant in one hand, a lighter in the other and a sardonic smirk on his face.
With a single flick he turned it into a flame thrower, spraying so close to my face, I could feel the snow melt and my skin warm up. It would’ve been pleasant had I not been at the risk of serious injury.
“I hate you…” Billy hissed like an angry snake.
“…Hey!” A man’s voice yelled from across the street, Billy gasped and ran off. Dropping the can and the lighter.
I lay confused in the snow as I could hear footsteps running towards me, Army boots. It was my neighbor’s son, home for the holidays, still in uniform.
“Are you alright, Mitch?” He said and pulled me up, “Want me to kick that little fucker’s ass? I’ll do it…”
I didn’t care, I was eight and I knew that when I got home not only would my mother make said cake, I would also find this years Christmas-wish – Balloon Fight for my Nintendo – under the Christmas tree.
“No… It’s almost Christmas… Thanks, Steve.” I said as he brushed me clean.
“You’re a good kid, Mitch.” He smirked and picked up the deodorant and the lighter, “Look what porky dropped. Here, merry Christmas, buddy.” He saluted me and strolled off.
I put my war spoils in my pockets, picked up the cake mix and raisins and went on my way. As I walked towards my house I noticed a snowman in one of the front yards. In fact, there were snowmen in every yard, but this one really caught my attention.

There was something about him, something that kept me looking and for some reason it felt as if he was looking back. No matter if I walked past, changed angle or stood still – he was looking. It felt as if he had seen the whole ordeal with Billy and was mocking me.

I got so angry, I ripped off the branches that were his arms and pulled the deodorant and lighter from my pockets and did what Billy had done to me. I sprayed the flame into the snowman’s face and slowly it began to melt, two grapes that formed his eyes began to boil, beginning to sizzle louder and louder. I looked at them with fascination, when suddenly they popped open and screams as if from a hundred men and women echoed through the neighborhood, coming from every snowman around. Warm grape pulp sprayed onto my face.
Needless to say I ran home like a startled cat – cake mix, raisins, a can of deodorant and a lighter in my arms. As I looked back, the snowman was still staring at me, his face half melted. The looks of all other snowmen burning into the back of my head.

Christmas Eve came, we had a wonderful dinner, cake, my parents read Christmas stories to me and my little brother and spend time together in front of the fire-place. Tomorrow I’d get my video game. But I couldn’t let go of the thought of the snowman, for some reason it really got to me. As I went to bed, I looked out the window to where the snowman had stood. He was gone, I sighed with relief, maybe he had melted or some neighborhood kids had broken him down. He deserved it. I went to sleep.

I woke up somewhere during the evening, noise downstairs, probably my parents still having a drink. For some reason I couldn’t get back to sleep, and again looked out the window towards where the scary snowman had been, a dozen trails through the snow led towards each house in the neighborhood. I froze at the sight and nearly wet myself.

Suddenly I heard the shriek of my little brother, I jumped from the bed screaming his name,
“I’m coming, Toby! I’m coming!” As I turned the hallway I stopped dead in my tracks.
Slamming against his bedroom door stood the snowman I had melted, as he turned around I emptied my stomach on the carpet floor. Where I had ripped off his branch arms, he now had two severed human arms. As I took a closer look I realized who’s… The hand had my father’s wedding ring. Two limb arms slamming against my little brother’s bedroom door.
The half melted monstrosity faced me, where had been the grapes were two eyes – I knew those eyes. They had always been loving eyes, as I had stared into them a thousand times before, they were my mother’s. The hellish creature let go off a blood curdling wail, it recognized me.
It threw something at my face, it smacked against me with a dull thud and I screamed in fear and disgust as I realized it was a severed ear, staining blood onto my Christmas-pajamas.

The snowman was sliding towards me as I ran back to my room and slammed the door, I could hear it roar and hit against the wood, I grabbed the deodorant and lighter and gathered all my courage. I swung open the door and did as I had done before: melting that frosty bastard as he cried out in pain, the smell of burning flesh, the flesh of my parents. As he began to liquefy I smashed him to bits with a baseball bat. I ran for my little brother, dressed him up and together made yellow snow out of the left overs of the snowman that attacked us.

We ran, passed the bodies of my mother and father, out of the house onto the street. All throughout the neighborhood I could hear the wails of my neighbors, the roars of the snowmen and trails of blood and gore stained the snow all throughout the streets. We hid up in my tree house in the bitter cold of the dark night, I could see Billy Niedermeyer flee his house to be trapped by the snowmen. They dismembered him alive. One of the creatures hollowed out his severed head and wore it for a hat. Others wore his entrails for a scarf. I watched.

Me and Toby ran for neighboring Issaquah, where my uncle and aunt lived, once dawn arrived and the creatures returned to their original positions. My aunt and uncle took care of us from that point on. Police stopped by and asked questions, I don’t really remember what. I suppose I pushed it away.
I don’t know what exactly happened, why they came for our little town, there were some rumors of Native American burial grounds, I don’t know what the conclusions of the police were. My aunt and uncle never told, we never asked. But I’ll tell you one thing, every time I see a snowman – I kill it. I kill that fucker real good. No snowmen will survive in my neighborhood. And none should in yours either.
Next time you see one, study it from up close, take a real good look into its eyes. And remember this story I told you, if you feel that cold chill down your back, you know it’s true. Try it. I dare you.

Written by Severed Limb Movement Posted in Uncategorized Tagged with blood, christmas, gore, horror, nightmare, snowman, snowpuppet