Do you remember when... #010
Micro-fiction, dragged from your memories of a cold, cold day.
Weekly horror stories, writing tips, and activities to exercise your inner demons.
I’ve been digging in your memories and found another tale, but do you remember it happening, or have you pushed this one deep, deep down?
Previous memories:
Do you remember when you built a snowman?
You were in your garden, wearing woolly gloves. Clods of snow stuck to the fingers, melting on your skin then freezing in the weave, turning your hands into blocks of ice. The weight of the damp gloves made your arms feel heavy, but you kept working.
It wasn't like in the cartoons, where they just rolled up a big ball of snow. Maybe you had the wrong kind of snow, but how many kinds of snow could there be? What else didn't you know yet? You pushed together a pile and added more and more until it became a pillar, something like a squat figure. It became the size of a snow goblin, rather than a snowman, but you were having fun.
The air tasted like knives, slicing your tongue with frost. When you breathed, it was like you were a factory, billowing smoke into the sky.
The sun dropped and you still hadn't given the snow goblin any features. You poked around with your feet. Your toes felt brittle inside your boots. Eventually you found sticks for arms and bits of damp, decayed wood for eyes. You tried to give it a mouth of leaves but they always fell out.
Streetlamps flickered to life, glinting along the bare, wet branches, but it was too dark to see properly in your garden. Only the snow glowed, bright under the winter night sky.
You went inside, leaving the snow goblin without a mouth.
Before going to bed, you looked outside. It stood there, silent and alone, featureless except for its rotting black eyes. Did you build it so close to the house?
You brushed your teeth. Mint flavour. Bristles tickled your tongue. Pyjamas on. Under the duvet and blanket. Kissed goodnight. The light went off.
You pulled the sheets to your chin, then your nose, your breath warming the space beneath.
Gloom smothered your room in shadows.
The snow goblin’s eyes stuck in your mind. You listened for dripping, hoping you'd hear it coming. The creak of packed snow would tell you if it's stick arms were reaching from its lumpy body, envious of your finished mouth, wanting your teeth, wanting to suck your heat into its two dark eyes.
We reached the tenth memory! Double figures, woohoo! Let’s see if we get to triple figures—I’m sure you’ve plenty of memories stashed away for me to harvest yet :D
Have a fabulous week.
Go be kind and spooky,
Mata
<3
“The air tasted like knives” is such a great line 👏🏽👏🏽