Rime Of Frost

presence

JANE WINSTON PRIED THE THICK folds of her bedroom curtains aside and peered out. The warm summer night was quiet except for the constant tick-tocking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

Out in the garden, the fountain spring sprayed small jets of water, each drops shone and sloshed merrily underneath the full moon beam. Her gaze swept past the peony bushes to the very edge of the garden. Her eyes searching for a certain someone shrouded in darkness. For good measure, she squinted harder and pressed her face against the glass.

The gate was still latched shut.

She released a breath she didn't know she held, and to her greater relief she saw no visible signs of trailing snow on the grass.

For the first time in weeks, Jane felt hopeful that maybe- just maybe - the unwelcomed visitor had finally left her in peace. She waited for another hour on her windowsill, training her eyes on every inch of her garden. There was a time when the clump of bushes rustled with movement and she'd startled - tense and alert only to find that it was small animals that disturbed the peace. Otherwise, nothing else had stirred in the dark.

Jane stayed on her spot until past midnight - sweating through her nightgown. After feeling fully conviced, she slid off the sill, kicked off her slippers and contently tucked herself under her blankets.

Her dream was not pleasant. A pair of cold gray eyes swam in her visions. She saw herself standing in the middle of a snow-covered barren ground, hands held up as if trying to ward off the cold itself. She heard the mirthless laugh of a young boy. Felt the wind biting her skin as it howled past. . .

Jane sat up with a start. She felt cold all over. Her heart thumping hard against her ribcage.

It is just a stupid dream. It can't hurt you, she thought firmly. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped to zero degrees - despite it being a sultry night...

She held her palms out infront of her- anticipating the feel of cold snow on her skin. There was once upon a time when she woke up freezing to find her room snowing lightly while the rest of the house remained untouched.

But there was no drizzle of snow tonight, her room - if anything - looked perfectly normal with its blue pastel wallpapers adorning every inches of the red brick walls. Her scented candle had long went out, but the sweet smell of lavender lingered. It was still summery hot.

She lit the table lamp, illuminating the room with a little light the better to inspect her room for signs of intrusion. Jane could make out her collections of glossy-looking china dolls. They sat in a neat line on top of her dress drawer, looking lovely in their frilled caps and lace dresses. They seemed to peer down at her, their smiles frozen and glassy eyes knowing..

Shivering, she directed her attention away from her collections and to the clock on her mantelpiece. The time showed 2 a.m. Jane blew out an exasperated breath, she'd been asleep for only two hours! For a moment, she sat on her bed staring into space and listening to the tick-toking of the grandfather clock. She didn't think she could go to sleep anymore. . . Then, a sound like glass cracking jerked her around. Her hopes already shattering like thin ice over water.

Fern-patterned frost decorated the window. The design was fast spreading throughout the glass like a living, breathing thing. A parasite.

She jumped out of the bed as if scalded. Her heart was jackhammering again,

The familiar sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was back. Like an anchor had been hooked and was pulling her guts down . . .  down . . . down.

She slipped into her slippers and for one fleeting moment, a furious thought crossed her mind.

I'll do him in this time!

Before she could lose any more of her nerves, she strode over to the door and pushed it wide open to the hallway where he would be.

But there was no one by her door. No gray eyes pierced through her.

The floorboards beneath her feet creaked softly as she tiptoed past her parents' room. A battered looking bat lay slumped against a wall in one corner - she picked it up and held it with a firm grip.

At the foot of the stairs, however, she stopped short. Her breath caught.

"No," she whispered horror-struck, her free hand came up to cup her mouth muffling the helpless shriek that escaped between breaths.

There was frost on the carpet. Pale white under the shimmering slice of moonlight.