Beware, the Snowman (5 page)

“The sorcerers tried to use magic to put the snowman back to sleep. But their
magic wasn’t powerful enough.

“The villagers all gathered together. Somehow they managed to force the
snowman up to the top of the mountain.

“There is a big cave at the very top of the mountain. The cave is cut in ice.
Everyone calls it the ice cave.

“The villagers chased the evil snowman into the ice cave. Then most people
moved away from the village. Few people wanted to stay, knowing that the evil
creature was alive at the top of the mountain.

“So most people left,” Rolonda continued, whispering so softly I could barely
hear her. “The two sorcerers probably left, too. No one really knows what
happened to them.

“And that’s when Conrad comes into the story,” Rolonda said.

I stared at her. “Conrad? The weird guy with the white beard?”

Rolonda nodded. “After the evil snowman was chased into the ice cave, Conrad
moved up there. He built a cabin just beneath the ice cave. No one could figure
out why.

“Is Conrad trying to protect the town?” Rolonda continued. “Does he work for
the snowman? Does he help the snowman? Or does he think that living so close to
the evil snowman will keep him safe?

“No one knows. Conrad very seldom comes down from the mountaintop. And when
he does come into the village, he doesn’t talk to anyone.

“No one knows for sure who he is or why he stays up there,” Rolonda
continued. “No one has anything to do with Conrad. We don’t know if he’s crazy
or evil.”

She sighed. Once again, her eyes darted around the room. She seemed so
nervous, as if she didn’t want anyone else to know that she was telling me the
history of the village.

“Some nights,” she continued, “we can hear the snowman up there on top of the
mountain. Some nights we can hear him roaring and bellowing with rage. Some
nights, we can hear him howling, howling like a wolf.

“We’ve all built snowmen. Snowmen that look like him. Everyone in the village
builds them.”

I jumped to my feet. “So
that’s
why I see those weird snowmen
everywhere!” I cried.

Rolonda raised a finger to her lips. She motioned for me to sit back down.

I dropped back onto the bench. “Why do you build the snowmen?” I demanded.
“Why is there one in just about every single yard?”

“To honor him,” Rolonda replied.

“Huh? Honor him?” I cried.

“You know what I mean,” she said sharply. “People hope that if the evil
snowman comes down from the ice cave, he’ll see the little snowmen that look
like him. It will make him happy and keep him from doing any harm.”

Rolonda squeezed my hand. Her dark eyes burned into mine. “
Now
do you
understand?” she whispered. “
Now
do you understand why we’re all so
afraid?”

I stared back at her—and burst out laughing.

I shouldn’t have laughed. But I just couldn’t help it.

I mean, Rolonda seemed like a really smart girl. She couldn’t really believe
that story—
could
she?

It’s a joke, I decided. A story the villagers tell to scare people who move
here.

I stopped laughing when I saw the startled expression on Rolonda’s face.
“Hey, come on,” I said. “You’re kidding—right?”

She shook her head solemnly. Her dark eyes glowed in the dim light. Such
serious eyes.

“You don’t really believe that a snowman can walk, do you?” I demanded. My
voice echoed shrilly in the small room. “You don’t really believe that a snowman
can be alive!”

“I believe it,” Rolonda replied in a low, trembling voice. “It’s not a joke,
Jaclyn. I believe it. And everyone in the village believes it.”

I stared at her. The ceiling creaked, probably from the weight of the snow on the roof. I shifted my weight on the hard
wooden bench.

“But have you ever seen it?” I asked. “Have you ever seen the snowman walk?”

She blinked. “Well… no,” she confessed. “But I’ve heard him late at night,
Jaclyn. I’ve heard his howls and his angry cries.”

She climbed to her feet. “I won’t go close enough to see him. I’m too
afraid,” she said. “I won’t go up to the ice cave. No one will.”

“But, Rolonda—” I started.

Then I stopped. Her chin trembled. I could see the fear in her eyes.

Just
talking
about the snowman had frightened her.

I wanted to tell her that the story
couldn’t
be true. I wanted to tell
her that it sounded like a silly superstition. A fairy tale.

But I didn’t want to insult her.

She might be my only friend here, I thought.

I stood up and pulled on my coat. Then the two of us made our way out of the
church.

The snow had stopped. But a gusting wind blew down from the mountain. The
wind made the fresh snow swirl and dance around our boots.

I pulled my hood over my hair and lowered my head into the wind.
No way
I could ever believe such a wild story, I thought. Why doesn’t Rolonda see
how crazy it is?

We made our way up the road, our boots sinking into the powdery, fresh snow. We didn’t talk. Our voices wouldn’t carry
over the loud rush of the wind.

I walked Rolonda home. We stopped at the bottom of her snow-covered driveway.
“Thanks for telling me about the snowman,” I said.

Her eyes locked on mine. “You had to be told,” she said solemnly. And then
she added, “You’ve
got
to believe me, Jaclyn. It’s true. All of it.”

I didn’t reply. I said good night. Then I turned and, leaning into the wind,
headed for my house.

I was nearly there when I heard a sound over the roaring wind.

A heavy
THUD THUD THUD
coming up rapidly behind me.

I froze.

For a moment, I thought it was my imagination.

I pictured an enormous, evil snowman, as tall as a house, lumbering after me.

“No!” I murmured. And spun around. And saw Rolonda’s brother, Eli, running up
to me.

His heavy workboots thudded over the snow. His sheepskin coat was open,
flapping out as he ran.

“Eli—it’s late!” I cried. “What are you
doing
out here?”

He didn’t reply. Breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down under his
sweater, he eyed me suspiciously.

“She told you—didn’t she?” he demanded breathlessly.

“Huh?” We moved behind a wide tree, out of the wind. “Eli—what is your
problem?” I demanded.

“Rolonda told you—didn’t she?” he repeated. “She told you about the
snowman.” He pointed toward the mountaintop.

“Well… yeah,” I replied. A clump of snow dropped from the tree onto the
front of my parka. I brushed it away.

“Eli, are you crazy? It’s freezing out here! Zip up your coat,” I scolded.

“Rolonda doesn’t know one thing,” Eli continued, still breathing hard. “She
doesn’t know that I saw it. I saw the snowman.”

I stared at him. “You saw the snowman? You saw the living snowman?”

Eli nodded. “Yes. I saw him. But that’s not the scary part.”

“Eli—what
is
the scary part?” I demanded.

He stared at me. The wind ruffled his dark hair, but his eyes remained
steady, hard.

“What is the scary part?” I repeated.

“The scary part,” Eli replied, “is that the snowman saw
me
!”

The wind howled around the tree. I dragged Eli to the side of the nearest
house. We pressed against the wall. Shivering, he finally zipped up his coat.

“Eli—the story is crazy,” I insisted. “I really don’t think—”

“Just let me tell you what happened,” he pleaded. “Then you can decide if
it’s crazy or not.”

He shivered again. “It saw me, Jaclyn. The snowman stared at me. It saw me.
It knows who I am. It knows that I saw it. And that’s why I’m so afraid of it.”

“But, Eli—” I started.

He raised a gloved hand to silence me. “Wait. Please.” He took a deep breath.
“It happened a few weeks ago. My two friends and I—we climbed up the mountain. We wanted
to see the ice cave. So we sneaked around Conrad’s cabin.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What does Conrad have to do with it?”

“He won’t let anyone near the ice cave,” Eli replied. “He keeps everyone
away. Conrad is so weird. Some people think he works for the snowman. He
protects the snowman by keeping everyone from the village away.”

“But you sneaked past Conrad?” I asked.

Eli nodded. “Yeah. My friends and I. And we climbed up close to the ice cave.
I had never seen the cave before.”

“What does it look like?” I asked.

Eli made a sweeping motion with both hands, outlining the shape of the cave
for me. “It’s a huge cave, cut into the side of the mountain,” he said. “It’s
made of ice. All smooth and shiny. It looks like glass.

“The cave entrance is wide and totally black. And it has huge icicles hanging
down all along the front. With points as sharp as knives.”

“Wow,” I murmured. “It sounds kind of pretty.”

“Yeah. In a way,” Eli agreed. “But we didn’t think it was pretty when the
snowman came out.”

I stared hard at Eli, studying his face. “You
really
saw a snowman
walking?” I demanded.

Eli nodded. “We heard a rumbling sound. The ground started to shake. My friends and I got scared. We thought it was an
earthquake or an avalanche or something.

“My friends started to run down the mountain. But I stayed. And I saw it. The
snowman poked his head out of the cave. He was as big as a grizzly bear. And he
had a scar cut deep into his face.

“His eyes searched around. Then they stopped on me. And his mouth opened in
an angry roar. He—he—”

Eli took a deep breath. Then he started again. “The snowman stepped out of
the cave. The ground shook. It really did. Snow blew all over the place.

“The snowman stared at me. And he roared again. And—and I took off,” Eli
continued breathlessly. “I ran past Conrad’s cabin. I ran all the way down the
mountain. And I never looked back.”

“What about your friends?” I asked.

“They were waiting for me down at the bottom,” Eli replied. “We just went to
our houses. We never talked about it.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Too afraid, I guess,” Eli said, glancing down. “We never talked about it. We
never mentioned it. I never even told Rolonda. It was just too frightening to
talk about.”

He raised his eyes to me. “But now I have dreams,” he confessed. “Bad dreams about the snowman. Every night.”

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. His whole body was trembling. From
the cold? I wondered. Or from being so afraid?

He gazed back at me, waiting for me to say something. “Eli, you didn’t tell
Rolonda about this. Why are you telling me?” I asked.

“So you will believe the story,” he replied solemnly. “You’re new, Jaclyn.
You probably think it’s all silly. But you
have
to stay away from the ice
cave.”

“But, Eli—” I started.

“You didn’t believe my sister—
did
you!” he accused. “You didn’t
believe her story.”

“Well…” I hesitated.

“That’s why I waited for you,” he explained. “I waited to tell you
my
story. Do you believe
me,
Jaclyn? Do you believe that I saw the snowman?”

“I—I don’t know,” I told him.

The wind swirled around the wall of the house. I felt my nose and cheeks. My
whole face was numb. “I’ve got to get home,” I said.

Eli grabbed my parka sleeve. “Jaclyn, don’t go up to the ice cave,” he
pleaded. “Please, believe my story. It’s true.”

I pulled my arm away. Then I started to jog over the snow toward my house.
“Go home, Eli,” I called back. “Go home before you freeze.”

I jogged all the way home. It felt good to run and not think about anything.

Jogging on fresh, powdery snow was difficult. My boots kept slipping on the
slick, hard surface underneath. By the time I reached home, my legs ached.

Breathing hard, I pushed open the front door. To my surprise, the house was
totally dark.

I pulled off a glove and squinted at my wrist-watch. Only nine o’clock.

Did Aunt Greta go to bed so early? She usually stays up until at least
midnight.

I clicked on the ceiling light and glanced around the small living room. A
magazine lay open on the couch. Nothing else was out of place.

Leaning against the front door, I pulled off my wet boots and stood them in
the corner. Then I tugged off my parka and dropped it onto the couch.

My eyes stopped at the door to Aunt Greta’s bedroom.

The door stood open. Darkness beyond the door.

I quickly made my way across the room and peeked into my aunt’s bedroom.
“Aunt Greta?” I called softly.

No reply.

I stepped into the room. “Aunt Greta? Are you in here?”

I fumbled at the lamp on her dresser and finally managed to click it on.

“Aunt Greta—?”

No. Not in bed. Not in her room.

“Aunt Greta—are you home?” I called loudly.

I headed out of her room. “Ohh!” I cried out when I stepped in something.

Something cold and wet soaked through my sock.

“Huh?” I lowered my gaze to see a wide puddle of cold water on the bedroom
floor.

“How did
that
get there?” I murmured.

I suddenly felt worried.

“Aunt Greta?” I called, hurrying back into the living room. “Aunt Greta?
Where
are
you?”

Panic swept over me.

Where could she be?

I started for the kitchen—when a rattling at the front door made me stop.

Was someone breaking in?

I gasped as the door slowly creaked open.

And Aunt Greta came bustling in, brushing snow off her long, black coat. She
smiled at me. But her smile instantly died when she saw my expression.