Blood in the Snow

Fresh fallen snow surrounded me in an icy blanket of white shards. The grey clouds had finally cleared and the moons soft gaze coated my vision in its pale glow. I stood in the back yard, looking up at the bedroom window of the house before me. A small gap between the curtains waved with the warmth of a candles flame, flickering and dancing away the shadows that would have normally occupied the room’s dark corners. The fresh night air filled my lungs with each excited breath, cold and deep. I could feel the hairs on my hands beginning to tingle in anticipation of the events that would soon take place, events that they alone would control. It was time!

Crunching steps echoed in the silence as I made my way through the yard to the door ahead of me. The children’s rusted blue and yellow swing set squealed into motion as a light breeze brushed past there plastic seats, tumbling falling leaves into my path. With each step my heart beat increased, thumping in my ears like a war drum, pushing me onwards towards my destination. The door was old and rotten around the frames edge. Yellow paint from years passed flaked from its weathered wood surface, beaten from years of nature’s uncontrollable temper. The top of the door held three panes of glass in a line, each with a different flower design imprinted within its frosted surface. I reached for my knife and slid it slowly from the sheath, raising it up to inspect its edge. Clean and razor sharp. An age of use had not faltered it and neither had I, ensuring its fine work was always complimented by maintaining its pristine surface. My hand carefully placed the knife against the doors seal and into the frame next to the cold brass handle above the lock. I had chosen this spot the night before, knowing that its surface was wet and eroded, and would break with the slightest of pressure. Pressing carefully with my shoulder the door began to crunch and crack with the last remaining resistance it could muster, I twisted and pried and with a final splintering push…… I was in.

The darkness inside was quite and welcoming. I stepped slowly into the kitchen. My boots gave out a feint squeak as the wet rubber was greeted by the cold hard surface of the kitchen tiles below them. I paused for a moment and ensured the house was still before closing out the cold behind me. Shadows darted around as my eyes adjusted to the blackness that now lay in every corner, embracing me in the pitch that scattered in every direction. My vision was ready to proceed, and so was I. A large arch way that led to the dining room was outlined in oak panelling, dotted with children’s pictures and certificates. The texture under foot changed to fluffy carpet, giving way softly as I paced forwards. A long wooden table, covered in a dark red cloth, sat in the middle of the room. There were six chairs altogether. Two chairs either side, tucked neatly to the edge of the cloth, untouched, and two end chairs. These however were pulled away slightly, with placemats and an empty decorative dinner plate at each. Two candles stood in the middle of the table held upright by shiny silver holders that glimmered in the darkness. I reached down and touched the dinner plate with my cold fingers. It was still warm. A crack from behind me made my heart skip a beat. I turned precisely, blade in hand, ready. It had come from the next room. I made my way forward to the stained wood door on the left wall. It was already slightly ajar as I placed my boot at the bottom and pushed it slowly open.

The smell of burning wood overwhelmed me as the door slowly creped open. The last remaining embers of a drowned out fire cracked and popped in tiny balls of explosive oranges and reds. Soft cream cushions from the large sofa that sat against the far wall had been placed on the floor in front of the fire with a blanket neatly covering them. A red stain on the carpet next to an empty glass of wine glinted with the sparks from the dying flames, catching my eye as I walked further inside. Clothes lay scattered all around. On top the mantle sat an empty bottle of wine and a glass with lipstick marks around its edge. Photo frames with pictures of the occupants were lined across the top, smiling, hugging and playing. They looked happy. I made my way back through the dining room and into the hallway that led off from the kitchen. As I reached the front door I slowly checked each of the large formation of locks and bolts that were stuck along the frame. I couldn’t believe getting in had been so easy, especially seeing the assortment of safety features in front of me. A short smile crossed my face as I turned and peered up the stairs into the thick shadows. I could see the outline of more picture frames hung on the wall to the right. My left hand embraced the cold hand railing and I began moving upwards.