It’s Cold Outside

He’s out there, playing in the snow, singing nursery rhymes to keep his spirits high. I can hear him

(crying)

laughing as he packs snow together into snowballs, flinging them high in the air.

It’s cold outside. Doesn’t he want to come in? No. Seize the day, they said. Catch the moment or you’ll forever regret it.

(cold outside, so very cold inside)

It’s warm by the fire, watching out the window at his antics. What’s he doing now? Lying in the snow, snow angels

(my little angel)

on the ground. What now? Looking up, up at me. His eyes are… intense.

(cold)

Warm. Full of childish energy and life.

(dead)

He beckons with his hand. Waving. Urgent. Oh, he wants me to join in? Well, a father should never let his son down.

Outside. Coat. Keys? Inside, of course. Where I left them. Sigh. Locksmiths don’t come cheap.

Never mind - I must play with him.

Where’s he gone?

---

Ah, there in the snow. Where’s his coat? And his skin is

(cold, ice cold and pinched blue)

warm to the touch still. His eyes, deep blue eyes, stare at me. He’d always had beautiful eyes.

(black and cold and gone and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring and staring)

It’s cold outside. Time to call the locksmith.

—
Credits to: TigerHall

Homebrew

I remember the golden years of homebrew games. My dad was one of those code monkeys who would spend hours in the computer/sewing room, typing up text adventures and Lode Runner clones. Some of my earliest memories consist of my dad telling my mom to keep me the hell out of the computer room while he was on the Amiga. He would disappear in there for days, occasionally popping out to meet his fellow junkies at a coffee shop to exchange manila envelopes like they were in some bad spy movie. Sometimes he would be nice and sit me on his knee and show me a game. These were the times I waited for, the times I remembered best.

A few years after he died, mom wanted to clean out the spare room and asked me if I wanted any of his old computer stuff. Did I! I packed all the beat-up, waterstained boxes into my car and took them back to my place. My enthusiasm was quickly dampened when I realized that not only did I not have a system capable of playing any of it, I knew nothing of coding whatsoever. I decided to try a list of my dad’s old programming buddies that I found in one of the boxes. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them had moved. My mom couldn’t help me out there, as dad had been pretty adamant about keeping his game life separate from his family life, but she told me one of the guys from my dad’s old job could help me.

Wonder of wonders, I actually found a guy. Name was Glen. I won’t give out his last name, he’s been through enough. He barely remembered my dad, but when I mentioned the games I could hear him nerd up over the phone. He had kept a few PCs in as good a working order as he could, and had actually written the virtual console I sometimes played when nostalgia hit me. We hit it off over the phone, and then a week later when we met in a coffee shop. Glen joked about it being like the good old days, and I joked about slipping him the goods in a plain brown envelope. He kind of laughed at that one, but I think it confused him. My dad and he probably ran in different circles.

The first three days were mostly nothing, just Glen trying to get the games running on at least one of the PCs and me trying not to drag my feet. When I didn’t hear from him for a week, I worried that my dad had done something valuable and Glen had stolen it and was probably auctioning it off to some collector. He never picked up the phone when I called. I had actually written it off as a loss when I got the games back in the mail. They came with a note:

everything’s on the CD
please don’t contact me again

taped to a CD case. I got so excited I forgot about how weird Glen was acting and called my friends over for a geek-out. I had guessed that the CD was made to play with the VC already on my computer, and I was right. We all crowded around the screen and started up the first one: Cherry Drop. I was expecting some kind of puzzle game. What came onscreen made us all retch a little.

My friend Bill summed it up nicely: “dude, she’s, like, ten!”

There were others. Some were older. Most younger. A few were boys. All the good feeling drained out of the room, but I couldn’t stop clicking. I think Charlie started crying first. By the end we were all pretty messed up.

The guys left without saying goodbye. I drank a toast to the death of my childhood. I couldn’t stop going back over all the times my dad yelled at me to get out, don’t bother him while he’s busy on the computer. I stared at the brown envelopes the games had been in, the same brown envelopes he’d taken to coffee shops, the envelopes with our old house as the return address.

_______

Source

Under The Blanket

Looking back, I’d say I had a pretty enjoyable childhood, nothing bad ever happened to me. I barely ever got sick, never broke any bones, or got into fights with my cousins when I visited. I was basically a picture perfect child, not to brag. Except, one time when I was visiting my older cousins I experienced the strangest event, and even today, I still can’t tell myself that it was just my imagination.

I was probably about six years old at the time, but I still remember everything about that night like it was yesterday. I was climbing trees with my cousins most of the day, and when it got dark, we went inside. My aunt and uncle went out for dinner so it was just us left in the old house. And then I suggested it, “Let’s play hide and seek!” Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if I hadn’t suggested that.

Either way, it was Alex’s turn to be it first since he lost ‘rock, paper, scissors,’ and Ray and I scattered to find a hiding place. First, I tried squeezing behind the sofa, my favourite hiding spot, but it was closer to the wall than normal. As lanky as I was as, I couldn’t fit that time. Alex was half way done counting, so as a last resort I ran into their bedroom and looked around, trying to find any place to hide, obvious or not.

Thankfully, the room was quite messy, so I figured that if I hid under the desk, I would blend in enough. Anything was better than being caught without a hiding spot. As I was about to dive under the desk, I noticed my other cousin, Ray, had already beat me there. I could see some of her long dark hair peeking out from beneath the blanket she was hiding under. Alex was almost done counting, so I had no choice but to join Ray.

I said to let me under the blanket with her, but when I reached out to pull some of it over me she scooted away. I scooted closer and reached out again whispering a really long ‘pleaaase,’ but she jerked away to completely avoid my touch. Fine, I thought, I guess that’s fair anyway, since she was here before me, it makes sense for me to be the one to be caught first. I teasingly whispered that I could see her hair anyways, and she rustled around in the blanket trying to cover it, not succeeding.

When I looked around from my hiding spot, I could see that it was definitely a good place, with some boxes blocking the view of the door around the corner, so if someone just gave a quick glance over the room, they wouldn’t have seen us. I leaned over and whispered how this was a really good hiding spot. Ray rustled around under the blanket in response. Then suddenly I heard Alex walk into the room, he looked around, checking under the bunk beds, right across from the desk. I held my breath. He got up and walked to the closet, checking in there, before going back out of the room. I let out a quiet sigh of relief, and whispered to Ray how close that was. Ray rustled under the blanket again.

From outside the room, I heard both Alex and Ray shout the traditional, “OLLIE OLLIE OXEN FREE!” from the other room. So I started to get up, proud of not having lost hide and seek, and said come on to Ray, but she didn’t move from under the blanket.

That’s when I realised that I had heard both of my cousins call for me to come out. I backtracked in my mind to realise that only my two cousins and I were home. Panic fell over me as I ran to the other room as fast as I could and saw both of my cousins standing right there. I tried to explain to them as fast as I could that someone else was in the room with me, and they of course, being older, were reluctant to believe me. I tried pulling them to the hiding spot so I could prove it to them, and it took some actual pulling, but I finally got them there.

My heart sunk when we looked under the desk.

The blanket was completely flat.

My cousins laughed at me as I frantically I searched the whole room, top to bottom, and scoured the boxes next to the desk for any trace of the figure, or anything I could have mistaken it for, with no luck.

It was gone. And still, many years later, I have no explanation of what it could have been, and frankly, I’m glad I never got to see what was underneath that blanket.

---
Credits to: Cori

Struggle

She ambushed me. I was on the ground in less than a second and she was on top me. Scratching and clawing at my face, she screamed out loud and plunged her face towards mine. Instantly, as if by instinct, I shoved my hand in her bloody mouth just in time to prevent her from taking a chunk of out my neck. Fear started to set in and so did her smell.

She reeked of fetid mould and decay. Her eyes were wild and insistent on ending my life. Our blood mixed and my vision began to sting and blur as it flecked into my eyes. She released her toothy grip on my hand and leapt to her feet, about four feet from me. I started to crawl towards the stairs and I could hear her giggling at her inevitable victory.

She leapt on to my back and began driving her fists into the back of my head. Even for a small woman, her little pointed knuckles were causing some serious pain and at that moment I was done playing.

I stood up, ignoring her feeble attacks, picked her up by the arms and threw her against the basement wall. She was out cold. I dragged her over to her mattress and began picking up her TV dinner. Leaving it by her, I walked up the stairs and unlocked the basement door with the key from my pocket. Breathing a sigh of disappointment, I turned to look down at her.

“Almost got me that time, maybe next week,” I shouted. Locking the door behind me, I shuttered with pleasure. I love it when they struggle.

—
Credits to: theangrygooch

We Don't Talk About Sarah

I always wanted a little sister. I would beg my parents, “Please? Pleeeeaasssee?” and they’d roll their eyes and tell me that it wasn’t as simple as I thought. That didn’t stop me from talking about it every chance I got though.

When they brought Sarah home, it was the happiest day of my life. She was so cute! I couldn’t wait to share my toys with her. I started going through them, deciding which ones were hers and which ones were mine. I borrowed my daddy’s label maker and started putting our names on each thing so we wouldn’t get them confused.

She cried a lot at first. I’d ask my parents why she cried so much and they told me it was natural. They said when she got used to us and our house she would calm down and not cry all the time. Sometimes though, she’d cry so loud that Daddy would have to take her into the basement where it was sound-proof so the neighbors wouldn’t complain.

She slept in Mommy and Daddy’s bed for the first month. Sometimes I’d try to join them but they’d always lock their door. Mommy said their bed wasn’t big enough for all of us to sleep in. I was patient. I knew the new bed with the bars that they’d set up in my room would eventually be hers.

When they felt it was safe to let her sleep on her own, they started putting her in it. She wasn’t crying so much anymore by then, and I would lie in my bed and watch her sleep from across the room. They’d take her into their bedroom first and lay with her until she fell asleep, then move her to our room. Some nights after she was moved, I’d see her lying there with her eyes open, just staring at the ceiling, so I’d go over and give her toys through the bars. A lot of the time she’d just throw the toy and then start crying and I’d have to hide under my covers before Daddy came in to deal with her.

Eventually, they started letting Sarah sit with me in the playroom. I was told that I wasn’t allowed to give her anything too small or sharp that she could hurt herself with. I was soooo happy! I would sit behind her and brush her hair and tell her she was the best little sister in the world. I showed her which toys were hers and which were mine, but she didn’t seem to care. Sometimes we’d sit on the window seat and she’d bang on the window while I drew on it with special crayons.

School started back up at Sugar Creek Elementary, and I went but Sarah had to stay home. Mommy said she wasn’t ready for school yet. I’d come home and tell Sarah all the stuff I’d learned. I drew pictures of us playing together. When I showed them to Daddy he’d tell me thank you and take them to keep in his office.

Then came the really bad day. I’ll never forget it. I came home from school and Mommy was just sitting at the table smoking. She looked real sad. I went to play with Sarah but couldn’t find her. When I went to ask Mommy where she was, she started crying. I asked her what was wrong and she said that Sarah was gone. I didn’t understand totally, but I started crying too and told her “We need to find her!” She just shook her head and said she was gone somewhere we couldn’t go.

Daddy took her bed apart. He threw away all my drawings with her in them. He took my nametags off all the toys. Sometimes I’d find one he’d missed and it’d make me cry. I started collecting them and hiding them, but he found where I hid them one day by accident and got really mad. We weren’t allowed to talk about her. It was like she never existed. I didn’t think it was fair. I told Mommy that Daddy was mean to make us not talk about Sarah, but she said it was better that way and I would understand when I was older.

I saw Sarah again.

It was just one time, but I’ll never forget it. I was with Mommy doing some errands. We went grocery shopping then went to a fabric store in Thorntown so Mommy could look at material to make some new curtains out of. She remembered that she had letters to mail, so we stopped at the post office to buy some stamps. I was humming to myself and reading posters while Mommy talked to the lady behind the counter and that’s when I saw Sarah. She was as cute as I remembered. I walked over and looked at the poster with her picture, but they’d gotten her name wrong. Somebody had written her name down as Shannon.

I rushed over to Mommy and tugged on her sleeve and told her that Sarah was up on the wall with the other pictures of children, but she got all flustered and apologized to the lady before dragging me out of the post office. I had to shout because she kept trying to talk over me instead of listening. “I saw Sarah! They got her picture on the wall in there!”

Finally Mommy slapped me and told me it wasn’t Sarah and that it may have looked like Sarah but I was mistaken and if I didn’t stop I’d get in real trouble with Daddy when he got home. I cried and promised to be good, but even after I promised I wasn’t allowed to have dinner and had to sit in my room that night. I heard Mommy and Daddy talking in the kitchen and they got kinda loud. Somebody started banging open the kitchen drawers and then Daddy’s feet stomped up the stairs but I heard Mommy scream “Don’t you dare!” and he stopped outside my room then went back downstairs.

We never went back to that post office and I never saw Sarah again. This is the first time I’ve talked about Sarah since that day.

____

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