Nick: A Winter's Tale

Chapter Eight: Truth is Misery

Nick raced once more through the forest, feeling again the wind whipping his hair and cloak. This time, however, it wasn't exhilarating, nor did it it make Nick feel good any more. Instead, a tear crawled down his cheek, and his breath was quick and sharp.

Donner galloped on, the thumping of his hooves against the packed snow harmonising with the pounding of Nick's heart. His ears were straining for any signs of the shadorites approaching, but nothing ever reached them.

He didn't know how long he rode for. The darkness grew heavier as the night ticked onwards. Soon, the trees and shrubs of the forest melded together into a repetitive blur of green, brown and white. Nick's senses were betraying him in his grief.

The light of the sun crept over the horizon as Nick rode on. The snow began to glitter and the shadows retreated, and soon thereafter, Nick broke the perimeter of the forest and saw, with tired and grateful eyes, his home town of Hilldale. The familiar pitched roofs, tall chimneys and the large clock tower that overlooked.

Something felt strange, however. The town was quiet, even in the early morning, Nick knew that by now the early goers would have been up. And yet no light flickered in any windows, no smoke curled from any chimney. He couldn't hear any cheery 'hellos' or 'good mornings'. The air seemed heavy over the town this morning, and there was no life or light to break through the gloom.

"Stay here, boy," Nick said to Donner, his voice shaking with worry, "Ill see what's going on."

Nick disembarked the deer, his boots crunching the snow beneath his feet. A weight was building in his stomach. Horrible thoughts flew through his head. Had something happened? Had everyone already fled? Was he too late to warn them of the incoming danger?

He shivered as the thought crossed his mind, and he pushed it away. There had to be time, or else he didn't know what else he would do.

As he entered town, the eerie silence only seemed to build. He walked slowly down the street, his crunching footsteps seeming cacophonous in the deafening quiet. He peered into the dark windows and saw no one.

With a slight jump, he heard something, but his panic was quickly replaced with relief as he saw two townsfolk walking away on the next street. They were dressed entirely in black and didn't seem to be speaking. Nick picked up his pace and ran towards them, eventually managing to catch up. They did not turn to address him.

"Hello," he said, "Where is everyone, it seems quiet?"

The couple did not answer him. In fact, they acted as if they had not heard him at all. They simply kept walking. Nick was confused, and went to speak again, when he realised that one of them seemed to be weeping.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. He was ignored once again. The couple stopped as the woman who was weeping began to dry her tears. It was this point that Nick realised who she was; Mrs Turtell, Alice's mother. The person she was with, who seemed to be her friend, comforted her, and they began to walk once more.

Nick's worry was quickly turning to panic. He tried to ask what was wrong, but was still only ever met by silence. He eventually gave up, but the desperation and confusion only continued to build within him.

He followed them through town, noticing more townsfolk as he went, also dressed entirely in black, bleak and upset. All of them seemed to be walking the same way, and after following them for a long time, he realised where they were heading; the church.

With a chilling realisation, he finally worked out why everyone was dressed so macabre. Clearly, there was a funeral taking place in town. Seeing Alice's mother so distraught, he was instantly filled with anxiety and began to run.

He flew threw the doors at full speed, skidding to a halt as he arrived. He didn't want to be disrespectful, but his worry was pushing him further. A huge sweep of relief swept over him when he saw Alice also attending. She, too, was dressed in black, and seemed to be holding back tears.

"Alice, are you okay?" he asked, "What's happening?"

Alice, like the others, did not answer, or seem to notice Nick standing there at all. Instead, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Nick kept trying to get her attention to no avail, and everyone's ignorance was starting to fill him with confusion and dread.

He surveyed the crowd, and saw that nobody in the audience seemed to have noticed him enter either. The confusion within him reached its climax, his rational thought throwing itself from his mind. He clambered onto the altar and began to shout.

"We all must run!" he announced, "Something is coming, we're all in danger!"

Not one pair of eyes met his. Not a single hushed conversation was broken. Nick was met with nothing but silence. His fear and frustration where overwhelming. His head began to swivel, looking for something, anything, that could help him get the attention of the crowd. But his eyes met something that he could never have prepared for; something that chilled his blood and clawed at his skin.

He saw his father, weeping in his Sunday best suit over an open casket. Sat within the casket was a body, a body so familiar it chilled Nick to his very bone.

It was his own body.

He stared down at his own face, which was pale and blue, lifeless within the casket, bitten with frost. He saw, with sickening remembrance, the horrific scars of the night the Shadorites had attacked him, the blood frozen over and crystallised from the blizzard. The very coat he was wearing now was clung over the body, tattered and darkened by the elements.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head, "No I'm here, I'm right here!"

No one noticed him speak once again. He shouted louder, to no avail. He became more desperate and fearful, but no matter how loud he screamed, not one pair of eyes turned to face him, and the silence grew more deafening as each moment passed.

Nick stopped and turned as he heard footsteps approaching, and he saw his father, dressed in his absolute best suit, begin to give a speech.

"My son," he said gravely, "was a hero. For many years he had helped the lesser off in this town, and he was a friend to all of us. I hope that he may find peace in wherever he has gone, and I wish only that I had seen the value of his deeds before now."

Nick felt an ice cold tear rolling down his cheek as he watched his father approach his body.

"I love you son," he said quietly, "I'll never forget you."

"Father," said Nick, "I'm here, I'm okay!"

He went to reach for his father, just as Christopher turned and began to walk towards him. For a second, Nick felt elated, thinking he had finally been heard, but his hope was shattered as something truly strange happened.

He felt a searing cold, one that permeated his very spirit and shook him to the core. His breath was ripped from him and a strange pain jolted him, as his father walked through his very being. His body shattered to tiny snowflakes where Christopher made contact with it, before reforming behind him. Christopher seemed for an instant to notice the cold, and shivered slightly, yet he continued as though his son had not even been there.

The experience finally broke the tension in Nick's head. Tears began to stream down his eyes as he fled the church. No heads turned to watch him as he ran back outside. The snow felt so much colder than it had when he entered, though it was most likely nothing to do with the weather. He left the now empty streets, the silence crushing down on him as he ran. He left town once again and climbed back onto Donner's back.

"On Donner!" he croaked through his sobs, and with that Donner began to pelt back into the forest. Nick didn't steer, his mind racing with misery and confusion. He rode onwards, branches flying past his face, and as he ran, a single tear landed in the snow behind him, frozen solid and glinting in the winter sun.