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- @ THE SNOW GIRL
-
- #By Linette Voller 1992
-
-
- It was quiet on the mist covered moor, secretly quiet, as though the
- heavy blanket of snow was muffling every sound. There were birds
- hovering over the leafless, skeletal branches of the trees, but I
- could hear no song.
- The silence did not bother me. I like quiet. I like to get away from
- people. All my life I've been a loner and people do not understand
- this. My mother and father for instance. They are always telling me
- that I should make friends and possibly join a "nice" local youth club
- or some other social activity which is healthy for a girl my age.
- "Leave your books for a while, Abigail." Mother had said that
- afternoon. "New people have moved into Holly cottage. Why don't you go
- along and introduce yourself? There's a girl your age too. Maybe you
- can become her friend. It would be nice to have a friend for tea
- wouldn't it?"
- I don't want nice friends. I don't see the point. Friends cannot
- teach you anything a book can't. Also, at my age they just chatter
- mindlessly about pop stars and boys they love, none of which I am the
- slightest bit interested in. I knew my mother would keep on, though,
- so that afternoon - for the sake of peace - I walked out of our house,
- then slowly down the road to Holly Cottage.
- I then quickly walked past it, across the busy road and down onto the
- silent moors. I went on for a while, relishing the open space with
- nobody shouting at me and regained the feeling of being able to breath
- again.
- I must have wandered at least three miles whenI noticed the Snow
- Girl. Someone must have spent a lot of time making her, I thought.
- She was even wearing snow clothes, which were perfect even down to
- the minute buttons on her snowy blouse.
- It was a tremendous shock when the figure moved. It turned its head
- and looked straight at me. I heard a sound... like a young child's
- sob. There were icy tears on her cheeks too, dripping, crystal clear -
- like icicles.
- Pathetic really. All the same, I walked straight past it... her. I
- don't like getting involved, you see. Like I said, I'm a loner.
- For a moment I felt a touch uneasy and started to feel slightly
- guilty. "Maybe she is just feeling unhappy and it's something private,
- something she doesn't want to share," said a little voice in my head.
- "Yes," it insisted. "Ignore her. Keep walking."
- I did as the voice had said.
- I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt her fingers lightly touch
- the back of my neck. They were as cold as ice. She deftly caught my
- hand and squeezed it tightly, and before I knew it she was whispering
- deep into my ear. Her breath was also freezing cold, and her voice was
- soft with a desperate pleading tone.
- "Help me," she whsipered. "Help me!" She pointed ahead, then to the
- left. "Over there, remember? Help me!"
- Her hair had fallen like a thick, white curtain across her pale face
- and the hazy afternoon light had begun to slowly fade. This all
- resulted in creating the illusionthat she was getting more like a real
- person every moment. I had this feeling that I had seen her somewhere
- before, I think it's called "deja-vu". I seemed to remember having
- done all this before.
- "Over there," repeated the Snow Girl. "Remember?"
- She tugged at my arm, pulling me with superhuman strength, ahead and
- towards the left, towards the deeper shadows. At that point, I glanced
- back the way we had come. There were footprints in the snow, but only
- one set:
- # My own.
- I screamed, hit out at the Snow Girl, and pulled myself free. I ran
- and ran, screaming because I'd remembered where I had seen the girl
- before. I was still screaming when I reached the edge of the moor and
- the road.
- Screaming when I ran into the path of a car, which hit me.
-
- That's why I'm lying in hospital bed both my legs and my left arm
- encased in plaster. I'm in a single bed room because of the dreams.
- They make me scream out, and that disturbs the other patients. So I
- was moved in here this morning. It's the doctors and nurses that call
- them dreams. I know they are not.
- She's here now, the Snow Girl, at the window. Tapping on the panes
- with her cold fingers. I see the icicle tears on her cheeks. I can see
- her mouthing "help me" and "remember".
- The first time I saw her - last summer - she'd said, "I just need
- someone to talk to. My parents are breaking up and I think I've failed
- my exams. I... I just need someone to talk to. Please, please help
- me!" but I had turned away, turned my back on her. I did not want to
- be involved. She ran off, crying, not looking where she was going...
- tear blinded. I suppose that's why she didn't notice the suspiciously
- bright stretch of green grass. Within seconds those bogs had claimed
- another victim.
- She's still out there; tapping, mouthing. Now her anger is starting
- to show. The accusation. She'd only wanted a few conforting words,
- that hot summers day. My right arm will not move. It's numb. I can not
- reach the bell by my bed to summon the nurse. My arm is turning to
- ice. The snow is coming through the window now.
- I'm alone - helpless.
-
-