 The winters here are biting, not just cold, biting in a way that makes it feel like the coldest place on earth. But Sarah seemed very insistent on this house specifically, in the location. I'll admit, it has a certain charm how it bumps up against a nearly untouched wilderness. After the first snowfall and the accompanying soul-sucking child, that charm rapidly turned non-existent. I hated the large, lonely house, how the mammoth furnace blasted through the corridors to combat the almost innate chill of the area. Our two boys, Tommy and Monty, were playing outside, throwing snowballs at each other. Skull, the family dog, but mostly Monty's, wrestled with both of them, and all three of them looked like they were having fun. As the furnace made the blasting sound again, almost like a muffled gunshot, I started to accept our surroundings as a sort of necessary evil. It made the children happy. It made my wife happy, so I guess I should have been content. I ventured out into the wintery front yard, squinting at the glittering snow. Turning to my left, I saw our neighbor, a friendly old man by the name of Victor. He'd welcomed us when we first moved in, seemed affable and as non-threatening as could be. Appeared to have a bit of a drinking problem, but that didn't change how we acted towards any of us. Yet Sarah didn't want the kids being around him too much. Said she was concerned, the habit would rub off on them. Still, Victor and I were fast becoming friends despite the age difference. Smiling as I trudged through the snow to where Victor sat on his porch swing, bottle of vodka in hand, I waved to indicate I was coming over. Hell of a storm last night. Victor said as I clomped onto the porch, his face twisted at the mere thought of it. When you got older, the almost gnawing winter chill becomes more easily felt and being in nature's icebox only increased my sympathy for his apparent discomfort. Yeah, I said, sucks, but the kids seemed to like it. I can't argue with Sarah on that one. Victor smiled, rubbing his knees. True, but when you've lived all the way out here for as long as I have, well, you learn to hate the cold. I chuckled. I already do, my friend. I already do. Being a swig of vodka from Victor's bottle, I stared out at Tommy and Monty, who were throwing snowballs at Skull, who yipped excitedly. I thought maybe Sarah had been right all along. Maybe she possessed a wisdom that I didn't about how this barren and almost dangerous landscape brings a family closer together. Then I took a look at Victor's sullen, wrinkled face. He seemed tired and worn, but contemplative. Something on your mind, I asked, tone polite and a little distant. I couldn't help marvel at the thick, suffocating blanket of snow covering everything. Victor gave a slight nod. Yeah, guess well, this time of year always brings out the curmudgeon in me. Can't help it. Victor lived alone, had for close to half a decade. His only child lived far away, according to him, though I was starting to doubt he had one at all. He didn't talk about him with much affection or any attachment whatsoever. Just, just be careful this time of year, Miles. It has a way of straining a family. Winters here are like no other place in the world. I don't mean just the temperature. Victor went on. What other things are there to worry about? A light shiver went up my spine and roughly halfway up it became a violent shiver. Victor only looked at me and raised an eyebrow. After a while, he just shrugged. The atmosphere, I guess, it'll be mid-January and you'll think there's no hope left that it'll go on forever. He replied, taking another swig from the bottle. Snow practically takes on a life of its own if you take my meaning. We sat on the porch in a reflective silence. The only sounds were the howling of the post-blizzard wind, something more akin to an arctic blast, and a plopping which occurred at regular intervals as the old man let the bottle fall from his lips. Even the sounds of Tommy, Monty, and Skull were fading. Increasingly, they felt like they were on the side of some impenetrable curtain. The porch began to feel isolated as if the chill in the air was concentrated there. I can't believe how long Olivia has been gone. He said, every winter, especially harsh ones like this, I think to myself, she'll be coming back home. I'm betting she will one of these days. I said, not sure really how else to comfort him. Later on that day, as sunset approached, I was sitting in the living room enjoying a rare moment alone with Sarah and reading a book. Thinking Victor is really missing his wife. I commented, putting my arm around her, suddenly consciously grateful of her just sitting in the red overstuffed chair, and the two boys, even Skull, who never ceased finding opportunities for getting into trouble. Sarah frowned, a subtle expression momentarily changing her fine features. It's almost Christmas. She replied, placing a hand on my knee. You should check on Victor. Maybe ask him if he wants to come over. I don't think he's a good influence on the kids, but he's harmless enough and it'll just be for a little while. I nodded. After a few more minutes of fragmented conversation, I stood up, stretched and put on my hat and gloves. Tommy and Monty were in the living room watching TV, their arms around Skull. His tail wagged contentedly, and he gave me a yip of acknowledgement as I walked out. The omnipresent redness of the setting sun hit me right in the eyes, and I held up a gloved hand. I took the shortcut to Victor's, which meant trudging through foot-deep snow. Victor wasn't on the porch, and an unexpected shiver rippled through my body as I scanned the empty wooden swing, then the abandoned bottle of vodka, which already had frost around it. If someone gripped it right then, it would slip through their fingers. Strangely, the door had been left open a creek, but then I reminded myself that maybe Victor probably wasn't in a sober state of mind. The wind increased to a roar, slamming the door against its wooden frame. I hastily closed it, heading past the entryway into the living room. Only a small reader's lamp, with a green shade, had been left on, and the place was still mostly shrouded in darkness. My back tensed as I stared at the empty furniture. I'd gone over to his house a few times, always finding him sleeping on the couch, his drunken mind spinning some dream drowned in booze and fragmented thoughts about his wife, Olivia. A crashing sound upstairs shook me out of my reverie, and I whirled around and headed for the stairs. I halted at the bottom, peering up to the upper level, heart beating furiously. I could have sworn I glimpsed a flash of white mixed with red. The only reason I didn't scream was simple. I didn't want to alert whatever was up there. Standing there, I debated whether or not to climb the stairs at all. Victor was a friend, but was he worth dying over? I asked selfishly. I realized I couldn't live with myself if I let him die. But what if he's already dead? My thoughts bled into my character, trying to find a loophole so I'd be able to flee the house with a clear conscience and not look back. There wasn't a loophole, and I slowly cleared the stairs. One at a time, vision pounding and heart racing. I hoped against hope. I wouldn't see the flash of white and red which seemed to slice through reality in the blink of an eye, terrifying me in the moment and leaving me perpetually on edge. The hallway confronting me was narrow, covered in dust in a bygone era. I realized for the first time how old this house was, crumbling silently with each passing second. Another booming sound, this one sounding like a civil war cannon went off. I froze after hearing the creaking of floorboards then resumed my slow quivering pace. At the end of the hall, I found Victor in his bedroom, right above his bed. His body was held in place by a scythe made of ice, and the curved blade had been buried in his forehead, blood trickling down the flawlessly carved weapon. I stood there. For several seconds, limbs as frozen as the blade. I was absolutely terrified and thought whether moving would alert whatever it was who killed Victor. Noticing a small leather book on the nightstand, I hastily lurched forward, grabbed it and ran from the room and down the stairs almost tripping at the bottom. I didn't stop until I reached my own house which stood against the cold with a kind of bleak resoluteness. Inside, Sarah had a big grin on her face, said I looked ridiculous running through the deep snow with my boots and that oddly determined expression on my face. The last thing I wanted to do was smile, but I mustered a lopsided, tired grin. She asked me if Victor was okay, and I nodded. He's tired, hun, but doin' alright. Hopefully he's sleepin' off the booze, I'll check on him tomorrow. Sarah looked satisfied with that and I told her I'd be up to bed in a little while. Tommy and Monty had gone to bed an hour ago, yet I could still hear them playing upstairs. In the living room, skull lay on the carpet, eyes half closed, sleep regular and lulling. The wind had reduced to an eerie whistle and I sat on the farm couch Sarah let me pick out and flipped open to the first page. I'm starting this journal because even though I have this sense every winter, this one especially stands out as the one where Olivia will return. I see her face in the mirror icy, implacable. I know she misses me. There's something different in her eyes now. Maybe she's been gone too long, but I haven't lost faith in her coming back. As I flipped through the pages, briefly staring out the large winter in front of me at the full infinite seeming night, I began to get a deeper feeling for what had really happened. Instead of Olivia dying due to some terminal disease, he made a bargain with the winter so she'd be frozen in some other world for an indeterminate amount of time. The last few lines gave me goosebumps. It read, knowledge is corruption. I'm an old man, only visitor is miles on occasion, but he hasn't seen the book. I'm not a religious person, but I pray he never will. I slammed the book shut and shoved it to the end table's drawer, then I put my face in both shaking hands. What did I do? I thought maybe the book's ramblings had been penned by a crazy old codger, but I'd seen his body held to the wall by a scythe made out of ice. I saw the blood and that flash of white and red. I went to bed about an hour later, so Sarah wouldn't get suspicious. She murmured in her sleep and turned away from me like she always did, pulling the blanket up to her chin and sighing. It occurred to me, I wasn't able to allow myself any soft feelings because of the knowledge I possessed. What happened to Olivia could happen to any member of my family. My only solace came from the fact that I hadn't made a bargain with the snow, but Victor's commentary wouldn't leave my mind. A few hours later, I woke to the surge of adrenaline, slowly realizing a startling crashing sound woke me up, similar to what I heard in Victor's place. Olivia stirred, but didn't wake. I hurriedly brushed the covers off me and ran to Tommy's room, safe and sound, sleeping off the edge of the bed. But Monty's room was hauntingly empty. Muttering to myself, I mindlessly checked under the bed and in the closet, then I bolted out of the room and saw her again. The slender, almost emaciated woman, the color of snow, eyes as penetrating and merciless as any icy wind. She had a scythe in her hands and it looked like it would freeze any hand which touched it. She let out a scream and suddenly I couldn't move. Then she traced an oval with her hands and it turned into a white shimmering portal. In the next instant, she was gone. Seconds later, Sarah's anxious but confused face appeared in the doorway to our room. She couldn't stop crying when we couldn't find Monty and I was damn near joining her in her tears. We need to call the police, she said, on the brink of tears again. I held her, not sure what else to do. I wasn't sure if I should tell her what I saw in Victor's bedroom or in the hallway just then. But I knew calling the police would be absolutely fruitless. If Monty had wandered outside in such harsh weather, he probably would have been dead by now. Even worse possibilities occurred to me as my mind involuntarily explored what would happen if the woman of ice took him into that portal. Monty was argumentative and would probably anger her to the point something awful would happen. Why aren't you as worked up about this as I am? Sarah pounded my chest with her tiny fist. The decision was made for me. Tommy lingered in the doorway to his room and I tried to give him a reassuring glance as I took Sarah by the shoulder. We were by the stairs and I looked into her red puffy eyes. Sarah, I need to tell you something. In private, it's about Victor and I don't want to say it in front of our son. I said, subtly pointing my head toward the stairs. A minute later, we sat on the couch and I stared at her again. Honey, Victor's dead. I think I know who killed him, but you won't believe me. Victor's dead. How? Sarah replied, wiping her eyes. Like I said, you won't believe me if I tell you. I can show you, but not sure if it's something you want or ever need to see. Besides, I don't want to take Tommy over there. The only thing I could suggest was asking one of the neighbors if they'd be willing to watch Tommy for a few hours. Most of our neighbors either wouldn't be willing or weren't capable of watching him. Miss Campbell would work. She's rarely busy and she was good with the boys last winter when we had to visit your mom. Sarah suggested her gaze fixed on the door in absent. Luckily, the elderly woman was willing to take in Tommy for a few hours. Said she'd be delighted. I knew Tommy hated it. But I told him we probably wouldn't be that long. Victor's house offered a biting chill as I held the door open for Sarah. Once inside, I took the lead in case we encountered the bloody ice woman. Upstairs, everything was eerily quiet and the chill became something almost arctic. I rubbed my arms and Sarah did the same. As we entered Victor's bedroom, Sarah screamed. His body was still nailed to the wall above his bed by the scythe of ice and with his gaping mouth and still wide open eyes, he looked like some bizarre hunting trophy. Sarah stood shaking for a moment then ran from the room after giving another half scream. Turning to go after her, I was horrified to see the bloody ice woman standing in front of Sarah. She took the scythe, touched Sarah's head with the tip, and her limbs, once shaking in terror, had been frozen. The tip of the scythe touched her head again, then a shimmering portal engulfed her body, making her disappear in an instant. The ice woman lingered, freezing my own limbs with a smile somehow reminiscent of winter. My bones began to ache. In order to save your family, you must make a bargain with winter. She said, in my ears instantly felt the sensation of frostbite. Then that oval of shimmering ice appeared again and she disappeared inside it. I shrank until it was little more than a teardrop hanging in midair, but before I could snatch the shriveled crystallized portal, it seemed to slip into nothing with all the instinct of a turtle going into its shell. With Sarah having been taken by the ice woman, I didn't linger in Victor's house, instead I ran down the stairs out the door and trudged through the snow at a breakneck pace. Miss Campbell's house felt like she'd left the door open for days and the darkness which enveloped me gave me the distinct impression of being wrapped in a cocoon of maple syrup. For some reason, the smell invaded my nostrils and I was afraid to turn on the flashlight I used to illuminate Victor's house. Once I did, the bright beam reflected off ice, momentarily blinding me, so I moved it a little to the left, still tracing the frozen shape until I saw a gaping mouth and finally the curved blade deep in Miss Campbell's forehead, blood having wrapped around it in a web of tributaries. My God, I started, but renewed thoughts of Tommy made me search the rest of the house in the semi-darkness. I found I couldn't stop trembling, implications of what happened to my family after being spirited away by some abomination left me utterly shaken and terrified. Then what I read in Victor's journal came to mind how knowledge is corruption. Knowing I wouldn't be finding Tommy here and now with every member of my family save skull having disappeared, I knew I had to act quickly. I hurried over to our house, trying my best to ignore the whine of the wind as it ran through me with almost savage force. Inside, everything had been plunged into darkness just like Miss Campbell's house and I gripped the flashlight with an anxious sweaty tightness. Scanning the living room with the flashlight still strong beam, I located Victor's journal. I knew I needed to make a bargain with winter. I just didn't know how. Part of me wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but there weren't any other options within my mind's immediate grasp. The haunting whine outside turned into a hair-raising shriek and for a moment I thought the house would collapse under the strength of the wind. Fortunately, it didn't, but the windows creaked and the walls groaned all the same. I thumbed through Victor's journal hoping to find something that would put me on the path to getting Sarah, Tommy, and Monty back. On the second to last page, it read, In order to make a bargain with winter, recite this passage. But beware, the season is treacherous and fickle. It has many faces pouring into human vessels at will. Flip a coin into the mouth of your snowman and the bargain will be irreversibly struck. Holding the hood of my parka closed with one gloved hand, I eagerly flipped a scratched quarter I'd plucked from an abandoned change machine a week ago and then stood back and waited. Nothing seemed to happen. The snowman just stood there, smiling an empty grin with hollow eyes. Then one of its stick-like, gnarled arms reached for me. I jumped back, giving a mild scream right before the sculpted smile and the rest of the snowman became a crater of shard-like glittering snow. The gnarled branch twitched as a harsh blast of cold whip through my already chilled bones and another scream escaped my lips. Once I realized nothing was going to happen, I hopelessly clomped through the snow back to the walk leading to the house. It took me over a minute to realize the porch lights had turned on and with that, miss Campbell's too. Victor's house across the tundra planes almost looked well-lit and inhabited, although on that point I knew the truth. Inside, I was greeted with a happy sight. Tommy and Monty were sitting in the living room playing with Skull whose eyes were a pale blue. No, Sarah. The happy moment turned to one of horror as I figured out she must still be trapped in the ice world. Later, Tommy approached me, saying he had to confess something. You can tell me anything. I said, I doubt it's that bad. Tommy played with his hands and I became even more worried. He wouldn't even look at me. I, well, I, it was Victor, you know, your friend. He told me to build a snowman, convinced Monty to help me. He said you'd need the snowman for later, but I couldn't say anything to you. Now Monty's different. And mommy's gone. I comforted him as best I could, but deep down I knew there wasn't much I could do. Monty had problems sleeping that night, and when I went into his room to check on him, he had the same pale blue eyes as Skull did. I'm having terrible dreams about the ice world, Monty said, but he didn't look scared much at all. Yet the driven, almost obsessed expression on his face scared me. The only stories he wanted me to read to him had to have something to do with winter. I made many suggestions. He scoffed at all of them. Why don't you read Victor's journal? He finally suggested, Monty, I want you to feel better. And I do practically anything else. It's just, I began. Monty folded both arms and stared at me, resolute. I felt torn from a father's point of view. I would do just about anything from Monty. But what was going on behind his eyes seemed vacant and a little manipulative. I knew if I caved, I'd be in for a world of trouble, more than what we were already dealing with. Knowing I had to be diplomatic, though seeing it as potentially fruitless, I said, Monty, I'm not sure how you know about Victor's journal. But let's just say I think there are things in there someone of your age shouldn't see. I'll read you any spooky story you want from our current collection anyway. The pale blue eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. It might bring mom back. And you love her, don't you? Of course I do. And I love you too, which is why I want to read you something that'll take your mind off mom. I'll find her. I'll always look for her. You know that, Monty. I tried saying his name with extra affection to soften the blow. In the end, Monty relented. And I read him one of our standby books. Afterward, going by Tommy's room, I found him fast asleep. I figured it had more to do with him being exhausted by whatever happened in the ice world than a lessening of worry or fear. Or maybe I was only projecting. I was sitting in the living room staring down at Skull who ground featuring the same wintery haunting eyes. I was afraid of him and wondered if he'd leap up from the round multicolored carpet and maul me mercilessly. It scared me how I viewed my own son that way. I felt like Monty and Skull shared the same evil identity and the fear built in me as I wondered if Sarah would come back changed to or if she'd come back at all. I corrected myself on that last point, considering Victor's wife returned, albeit in a horrific form. That night, I woke to the sound of someone rummaging in the kitchen. I jolted upright, adrenaline already making my thoughts pop and crackle with anticipatory dread. I sat for a moment longer, confused and frightened to find out who was making that sound. Part of the horror dissipated because I realized it might be Sarah then swiftly returned for the exact same reason. Monty emerged from the semi-darkness of the kitchen, bottle of booze in hand. I prefer vodka, but this'll do just fine. He said, and as I stared into ice-rimmed eyes, the menacing glare in them, I knew what consciousness stared back.