Beware, the Snowman (7 page)

“Don’t look down!” I murmured out loud.

But as soon as I said it, I had to look.

It was a deep drop from the ledge to the ground far, far below.

If I slipped and fell…

I’m not going to slip and fall! I told myself.

A deep, rumbling sound made me jump!

I grabbed the mountainside with both hands to keep from falling.

The ledge trembled beneath me.

Another low rumble made me cry out in fear.

The ledge trembled again. The whole mountain seemed to shake!

The sound came from the cave.

Is something moving up there? I wondered.

Or is it the normal sound of a mountaintop in the wind?

I gathered my courage and moved forward. Inch by inch.

I had come this far. I refused to retreat now.

The ledge grew narrower, slipperier, as it curved around.

Another rumbling noise made me gasp.

Somehow I held on. And followed the ledge around.

It seemed to take forever. But then the cave opening came into view.

And after that, I saw the most terrifying sight of my life.

I didn’t see it at first.

First, I saw the layer of solid ice that covered the ledge. The glassy cave
rose up behind the ledge. The gaping entrance to the cave was blacker than the
darkest night.

I stood staring into the darkness. Trying to catch my breath. Trying to slow
my pounding heart.

Clouds reflected in the glassy ice drifted rapidly to the right. They made
the cave appear to move.

Sharply pointed icicles stabbed down from the roof of the cave opening. They
reminded me of sharpened teeth about to close.

I stared into the black cave opening and waited. Waited to see if anything
would appear.

I didn’t have to wait long.

A rumble as loud as thunder made the ledge quake.

Afraid I might slip off, I dropped to my knees.

The rumble grew to a roar.

And a tall, white figure lumbered out from the blackness of the cave
entrance. An enormous snowman!

I gasped—and stared in horror as the mountain of snow moved toward me.
“Nooooo!” I wailed.

I forgot where I was. Forgot I was perched on a narrow ice ledge.

And started to back up, to back away from the tall creature.

And I slipped.

Slipped off the ledge.

And felt myself fall.

My hands shot up.

Shot up and dug into the ledge.

I gripped the icy ledge. Held on. Held on.

With a terrified groan, I scrambled back up to safety. Trembling. My entire
body shaking. My breaths escaping in short, frantic gasps.

I huddled on my knees on the icy ledge and watched the snowman as it glared
down at me. Its blood-red scarf flapped in the wind. Its round, black eyes were
as big as doorknobs. Its dark mouth turned down in a fierce, angry sneer.

And the scar. The scar cut deeply into the side of its round head, long and
curling, like a black snake.

“Ohhhhhh.” I uttered another moan as its tree branch arms reached for me.

I shivered in a sudden, deep cold. A cold I’d never felt before. I could see
frozen waves floating from the snowman’s wide body.

And then the big, round head tilted. The black eyes bulged even wider.

And the snowman bellowed in a deep roar of a voice:
“WHO ARE YOU?”

I trembled in the waves of cold that floated off its body.

It talks!

The stories Rolonda and Eli told me are true. It’s all true.

Its round eyes locked on mine, the big snowman moved closer. Closer.

I wanted to stand up. I wanted to run.

But it had me frozen there.

I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t back up. I couldn’t escape from it.

“WHO ARE YOU?”
the snowman bellowed again. And the whole mountain shook.

“I—I—” My voice came out in a quivering squeak.

“Please—” I managed to choke out. “Please—I didn’t mean to bother you. I—”

“WHO ARE YOU?”
the huge snow creature thundered for the third time.

“My name?” I squeaked. “My name is Jaclyn. Jaclyn DeForest.”

The snowman’s tree branch arms shot up. Its dark mouth gaped open in
surprise.

“SAY IT AGAIN,”
it ordered.

I shivered in the waves of cold. “Jaclyn DeForest,” I repeated in my tiny,
frightened voice.

The snowman stared down at me in silence for a long while. It lowered its
arms to its round, white sides.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?”
it demanded.

I swallowed hard. The question took me totally by surprise. I opened my mouth
to answer, but no sound came out.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?”
the snowman thundered.

“No,” I squeaked. “Who are you?”

“I AM YOUR FATHER!”
the snowman cried.

“Nooooooo!” A long wail escaped my throat.

I wanted to get away from there. I wanted to run. To slide down the mountain.
To
fly
away.

But I couldn’t move.

The snowman trapped me in his icy grip. Held me there on the ledge. Froze me
in wave after wave of cold.

“Jaclyn—I am your father,” the snowman repeated, lowering his booming
voice. He stared down at me with those frightening, round glassy eyes. “Believe
me.”

“Th-that’s
impossible
!” I stammered. I hugged myself, trying to stop
my body from trembling. “You’re a snowman! You
can’t
be my father!”

“Listen to me!” the snowman roared. “I am your father. Your mother was a
sorceress. And so is your aunt. Your aunt practices all sorts of magic.”

“No—!” I protested. His lies made me gather my courage. I climbed to my
feet.

“That’s not true!” I cried angrily. “I’ve never seen Aunt Greta do any magic.
You’re lying!”

The snowman bobbed from side to side. The ledge shook beneath me. I nearly
lost my balance.

“I do not lie, Jaclyn,” he insisted. His arms raised up, as if he were
pleading with me. “I’m telling the truth.”

“But—but—” I sputtered.

“Your mother did this to me,” the snowman said. “She used her magic and
turned me into a snowman. You were two years old. She turned me into a snowman.
She tried to turn me back. But she failed. Then she and your aunt Greta took you
and ran away from the village.”

“Your story doesn’t make any sense!” I cried. “If what you say is true, why
did we move back here? Why did Aunt Greta bring us back to the village?”

“Your aunt had a good reason for coming back,” the snowman explained. “She
knows that after ten years, the magic spell starts to fade.”

“I—I don’t understand,” I stammered. My head felt frozen. It was hard to
think. I struggled to make sense of what he was telling me.

“After ten years, the spell fades,” the snowman repeated. “Your aunt came
back to renew the spell. She wants me to stay a snowman. She wants to keep me
prisoner up here forever. She wants to make sure I don’t tell the world what happened to me. And she wants to keep you to herself!”

“Aunt Greta is
not
a sorceress!” I protested. “I’ve lived with her
most of my life. And I’ve never seen her do any kind of magic. She doesn’t—”

“PLEASE!” the snowman bellowed, raising a tree branch arm to silence me.
“There isn’t much time. I’m your father, Jaclyn. Your real father. You’ve
got
to believe me.”

“But, I—I—” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think straight. It was
all too… crazy.

“You can get me out of this,” the snowman pleaded. “You can save me. But
you’ve got to hurry. Your aunt Greta will renew the spell soon. If you don’t
save me, I’ll be a snowman for another ten years.”

“But what can I do?” I cried. “I’m not a sorceress. I can’t do magic. What
can I do?”

“You can save me,” the giant snow creature insisted. “But I cannot tell you
how.” He uttered a bitter sigh.

“If I tell you how to save me, it will only
strengthen
the spell,” he
continued. “You’ve got to figure it out for yourself.”

“Huh? But how?” I demanded.

“I can give you a hint,” the snowman replied. “I cannot tell you how to save
me. But I can give you a hint.”

“Okay,” I said softly. I hugged myself more tightly.

And I listened as, in his deep rumble of a voice, the snowman recited the
familiar rhyme:

“When the snows blow wild

And the day grows old,

Beware, the snowman, my child.

Beware, the snowman.

He brings the cold.”

I stared up at him in shock. “You—you know the poem!” I stammered.

“That is your clue,” the snowman said softly. “That is the only hint I can
give you. Now you must figure out how to rescue me.”

I already knew how to rescue him.

I knew instantly when he recited the old rhyme.

The
second verse.
The secret had to be in the second verse. The verse
I couldn’t remember.

“Please, Jaclyn.” The snowman gazed down at me, pleading. “Please. Help me.
I’m your father, Jaclyn. I’m really your father.”

I stared back at him. Trying to decide. Trying so hard to decide.

Should I believe him?

Should I help him?

Yes, I decided.

Yes. I’ll run home. I’ll find the old poetry book. And I’ll read the second
verse of the rhyme.

“I’m coming back!” I called up to the snowman. I spun away from him, pulled
myself out of his invisible, cold grip.

I started to run down the ledge. And gasped when I nearly ran into Aunt
Greta!

“Aunt Greta—!” I cried in shock.

“I tried to warn you!” she called to me. “I tried to scare you, Jaclyn. To
keep you from coming up here.”

So, it was Aunt Greta who whispered up to my room late at night, who warned
me to beware of the snowman!

Her dark eyes were wild. Her normally pale face was bright red! Her long,
black coat was open and flapped behind her in the wind.

She raised a large, black book in one hand above her head. “Jaclyn—is
this
what you’re looking for?” she
demanded shrilly.

“The poetry book?” I cried.

My aunt nodded. She held the book high above her.

“Aunt Greta—is it true?” I asked, glancing back at the huge snowman. “Is he
really my father?”

My aunt’s face twisted in surprise. “Huh? Your father?” she cried. “What a
lie! Is
that
what he told you? That he’s your father? It’s a lie. A
horrible lie!”

“NOOOOOO!” the snowman boomed.

I jumped. But Aunt Greta ignored the thunderous cry.

“It’s a lie, Jaclyn,” she repeated, glaring angrily at the snowman. “He isn’t
your father. He’s an evil monster!”

“NOOOOO!” the snowman bellowed again. The whole mountain shook from his
protest.

“Your mother and father were sorcerers,” Aunt Greta continued, ignoring him.
“They practiced their magic night and day. But they went too far. They created
him accidentally.”

Aunt Greta pointed to the snowman, her face bitter. “He’s an evil monster,”
she repeated through gritted teeth. “When your parents saw what they had done,
they were horrified. They froze the monster inside the snowman body. Soon after,
your father disappeared. Your mother and I took you and ran from the village. We ran to be safe from the monster’s
horrible evil!”

“YOU ARE A LIAR!” the snowman raged. He waved his stick arms wildly in the
air. His scarf blew out at his sides like hawk wings. Wave after wave of cold
shot off his bulging body.

“Jaclyn, don’t believe her!” the snowman pleaded. “Save me—please! I am
your father.”

His arms reached out to me. “Please,” he begged. “I know it is hard for you
to believe. But your aunt is the evil one. She is a sorceress. She and your
mother and I—we were all sorcerers. I am not evil. I am not a monster. Please—”

“Liar!” Aunt Greta shrieked. She gripped the big book angrily in both hands,
as if ready to throw it at him. “I know no magic!” Aunt Greta cried. “I know no
spells! I am not a sorceress!”

She opened the book and began frantically shuffling through the pages. “I’m
not a sorceress. But I brought this book because I know its secret. I know what
I need to do to make sure you stay frozen in that snowman body forever!”

The snowman continued to reach out to me. “Jaclyn, save me. Save me now,” he
pleaded.

I turned from him to my aunt, then back to him.

Who should I believe?

Which one was telling the truth?

Suddenly, I had an idea.

I grabbed the open poetry book from my aunt’s hands.

“What are you
doing
?” she shrieked.

She moved quickly to wrestle it away from me.

We both tugged at it. The old pages tore and flew out. The heavy cover
cracked.

Aunt Greta made a desperate swipe at it.

But I pulled it away from her. Then I backed up against the wall of the ice
cave.

Aunt Greta took a step toward me. Then she gazed up at the snowman and
decided not to come that close to him.

“Jaclyn—you’re making a big mistake!” Aunt Greta warned.

Leaning against the smooth cave wall, I flipped frantically through the pages
of the old book. “I’m going to find the poem,” I told her. “I’m going to read
the second verse. It’s the only way to know the truth.”

“THANK YOU, DAUGHTER!” the snowman bellowed.

Aunt Greta uttered a wail of protest. “I’m telling you the truth, Jaclyn!”
she cried. “I have taken care of you all these years. I would not lie to you.”

But I’d made up my mind.

I had to read the second verse. It was the only way I could find out who was
lying and who was telling the truth.