The girl came to us in winter. Half-dead with hunger and with tramping through the blinding snow, bloodshot-eyed, all her movements small and quick and wary as a cat’s. She’d scratched at the door like a cat, too, fallen more than stepped through when we opened it. Sanctuary seemed like the least we could offer.
She was good with the animals and with a needle and thread, less use in the kitchen. But her real skill was telling stories. We sat up late each night that winter, and she glowed like a paper lantern before the fire. Brushed out of its hedgewitch tangles and lovingly oiled, her hair was pitch-dark and shining. Her voice was low for a girl’s and always quiet, so we were sure to listen.
Always the same theme, though the figures differed: the peasant girl holding her breath in the forest; the princess pursued. Always the bad men, just out of sight, one step behind or around the corner, waiting.
The stories were never finished. She’d glance over at my father, pretending to nod in his chair and watching her from the corner of his eye, and murmur, “Time for bed?” leaving her heroine still frozen in flight.
We should have grown tired of the tales, given up hope of ever reaching a denouement — but entertainment was scarce in those cold months, and so every evening we begged for just one more. Perhaps this time the bad men would lose sight of their quarry once and for all.
She was outside, feeding the chickens, when they came. We barred the door, and I could not think of a protest that wouldn’t stick in my throat.
She looked back without rancour, without even disappointment, and turned to face them.
We held the bolt tight shut until dawn, our hands growing stiff with the cold burn of the metal. When morning and silence came, we opened it.
My sisters wept and hid behind the door. I looked around in search of an ending. I’d expected to see some sign of a struggle, some testimony bled onto the ground or scratched into the gatepost. But fresh snow had fallen during the night, and the world was clean and beautiful as a blank page.
Jessica George is a PhD student from Pontypool, South Wales. She writes what she feels like reading.
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31 Responses to “FRESH SNOW • by Jessica George”
Comments
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October 29th, 2010 at 12:23 am
Beautifully written. ‘Hedgewitch tangles’! Fantastic. The first paragraph set the scene beautifully and drew a vivid picture of the girl. Well done!
October 29th, 2010 at 1:32 am
Good imagery, lovely language.
October 29th, 2010 at 3:29 am
Tone poem with a killer last paragraph
October 29th, 2010 at 3:31 am
Great flash. Wonderfully evocative and beautifully written.
October 29th, 2010 at 3:37 am
Beautiful, poignant. Sent goosebumps down my back.
October 29th, 2010 at 4:02 am
[...] don’t often do recommendations (of anything, to anyone). Fresh Snow by Jessica George leapt out of the mass of things to read this morning. If you can make the time to read any fiction [...]
October 29th, 2010 at 4:13 am
brief and beautiful , liked the girl , thank you
October 29th, 2010 at 4:47 am
So concise and so cute. Well done
October 29th, 2010 at 5:10 am
Wonderful. Great last line.
October 29th, 2010 at 5:12 am
Very well written. Liked that it left a lot to the imagination, the mystery of it all. *****
October 29th, 2010 at 5:21 am
Lyrical and lovely story without a denouement but with a breath catching ending.
October 29th, 2010 at 6:59 am
Very well done. Reminds me of “The Girl With April In Her Eyes” song by Chris De Burgh
October 29th, 2010 at 7:46 am
Beautifully written, chilling from the start and a spectacular conclusion.
October 29th, 2010 at 8:44 am
I agree with all that’s been said… wow, truly beautiful and is such few words.
October 29th, 2010 at 9:23 am
I like the story development.
BUT I’m left with an empty feeling
in the end. Perhaps its this rotten cold I’ve got.
4 stars
October 29th, 2010 at 10:50 am
A full story in very few words. Well done.
October 29th, 2010 at 11:04 am
Beautiful language and descriptions but it just didn’t feel complete to me. Perhaps it is more powerful leaving it open, but I just wanted more of a hint as to what had gotten the girl into this situation.
October 29th, 2010 at 1:27 pm
Sad and beautiful and one of my rare 5s.
October 29th, 2010 at 5:27 pm
Ahh, indeed this girl provides excellent storytelling! Thank you for sharing! Bravo!
October 30th, 2010 at 12:36 am
nicely done
October 30th, 2010 at 8:22 am
It is a chilling story. The girl is chilling. The weather is chilling and the end is chilling. You should be proud of this one.
October 31st, 2010 at 10:14 am
Emotionally charged and atmospheric. Lovely piece.
October 31st, 2010 at 10:52 am
Five! One of the strongest stories I’ve recently read in EDF. Thank you Jessica
November 1st, 2010 at 7:03 am
A wonderfully evocative piece, with a powerful emotional charge. I loved its understatement, spareness of language and the space left for the reader – so effective and satisfying. Great stuff; more please!
November 1st, 2010 at 8:24 am
A sort of Sheherazade with an unhappy ending. Brava Jessica.
November 1st, 2010 at 8:53 am
Thanks to everyone who’s read and commented! I’m really chuffed with the response to this one.
November 1st, 2010 at 11:12 am
Haunting and beautiful, well done!
November 1st, 2010 at 12:54 pm
Chilling, powerful and beautifully written
November 25th, 2010 at 4:46 pm
A mysterious ending… or a beginning?
Well done Jess, what about chapter 2?
January 15th, 2011 at 4:16 pm
This story has been nominated in the Horror Short Stories category of the Preditors & Editors Poll. Voting is open until January 26th.
April 26th, 2011 at 9:35 am
[...] am just starting out in the world of online magazines. At the moment, my only published story is Fresh Snow at Everyday Fiction, but I have another coming up elsewhere shortly. Any comments, advice, or [...]