The children had spent hours hauling snow, slowly molding the snowman into existence. They giggled as they rolled and pressed ice into a deformed trunk, topped by two small spheres. He was balanced but askew.
Raiding the kitchen drawer, makeshift features and a bow-tie were fashioned from aluminium foil. They tugged at my hand, pulling me out into the cold to inspect their handy work.
I drew a sharp breath, as I took in its snarling mouth, vacant eyes, and small, scar-pocked holes where two sticks formed outstretched arms. I swear, I even saw the thing wink at me.
“What do you think mum?” Katie asked, craving my approval.
I checked my face, lest it belied the unkind thoughts in my mind.
“It’s great hun,” I replied, secretly hating it. It was the creepiest snowman I’d ever seen. Like it would tear you apart at first opportunity.
“Come on, let’s get you guys rugged up and ready for bed. It’s late,” I cajoled.
– – – – – – – – – – – –
Later that night, whilst stoking the coals in the hearth, I heard it.
Scratching at the door.
Terror gripped me, for I knew who it was.
I grabbed the scalding bar, praying heat would conquer him.
By Sarah ©2018
Prompt: Sunday Photo Fiction – March 4th 2018; and also, The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 341