cold winter night, twenty years ago, during January’s full moon,
a murder was
committed and covered up, spells were hastily cast to bind a witch to
resting place, and two children were separated to protect them from
memories of that night.
of Little Winter...
She took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves, and then cocked her head to the side to listen.
Minutes ticked by without another sound. She sucked in another mouthful of air, held it and listened some more.
Footsteps scuffed across hardwood floors.
Those icy fingers coiled toward her stomach.
Beyond a doubt, she was no longer alone in the old house. And whoever was there with her was in the next room.
Opening the nightstand drawer, she pulled out the pistol she kept for protection.
“Didn’t want to have to use this,” she mumbled as she checked the
bullets. Curling her fingers around the cold steel, she kept her eye on
the door and eased off the bed. Cold air crept across her feet, circled
her ankles and crawled up her legs.
It’s always cold in this place.
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